meet 


WORLD 
VOICES 


''This  is  my  /as^;  Amid  Discordant  strije 
To  I^eep  a  clean,  sioeei  center  in  my  life. 
And  though  the  human  orchestra  may  be 
Playing  all  out  of  k.ey. 
To  tune  my  soul  to  symphonies  above 
And  sound  the  note  of  love. 
This  is  my  taslz" 

"THIS  IS  MY  TASK' 


■^jaiwr** 


-  V.5'"i  n.s  xsmai  bs^isi  ,s\^^\^  ^  .. 


:  r«rir»  ^cr\  v 


AdKT 


WORLD 
VOICES 

6llaWlieelefMMcox 

Author  of  "Maurine,      ''Poems  of  Passion, 
"Poems  of  Pleasure,     etc. 


fflltistratrions  htf 

William  de  LeftwicK  Dodge 

Will  Foster 

Lejaren  A.  Hiller 

T.  D.  SKiamore 

Vincent  Aaerente 

CKarles  A.  Winter 

Paul  Bransom 

George   Gidds 

Mary  Greene  Blumensnein 

Paul  Julien  Meylan 

J.  Scott  Williams 

William  Hottinger 

W.  T.  Benda 

JoKn  Alonzo  Williams 

Dalton  Stevens 


New  York 
Hearst's  International  Litrary  Company 


Copyright,   1916, 
by    Ella   WKeeler   Wilcox 

All  rights  reserved,  including  that  of  translation  into 
the    foreign  languages,  including  the    Scandinavian. 


CONTENTS 


After Page 

All  in  a  CoacK  and  Four 

America 

AristarcKus 

Arrow^  and  Bow 

Bachelor  to  a  Married  Flirt,  A 

Beauty 

Bed,  TKe " 

Belgium 

BirtK  of  Jealousy,  TKe 

BirtK  of  tKe  OrcKid,  TKe 

BlaspKemy  of  Guns,  TKe 

Call,  TKe ;; 

CKrist  Crucmed 

Compassion 

Contrasts 

Convention,  TKe 

Crimes  of  Peace,  TKe 

Divorced 

EartK  Bound 

EartK,  TKe 

Edict  of  tKe  Sex,  TKe 

Europe 

FaitK  We  Need,  TKe [' 

FatKer  and  Son 

Forecast,  TKe 

GKosts,  TKe 

Good  Sport,  A 

Graduates,  TKe  ....     

Gulf  Stream,  TKe 

Gypsying 

Happiness 

Harp,  TKe 

HeigKts,  TKe 

Hersey 

His  Last  Letter 

Husks 

I  Am  Running  FortK  to  Meet  You 

I  Wonder 

If  I  Were  a  Man,  a  Young  Man 

Incarnation 

Interlude 


70 


358di 


io 


CONTENTS  — Continued 


It  Matters  Only . 
It  May  Be 


Pag. 


Just  You 
Kim  .... 


Land  of  tKe  Gone-Away  Souls,  Tne 
Lawns 


Meditations 

Men-Made  Gods,  The 

Minor  CKord,  A 

My  FaitK 

My  Flower  Room .... 


Neutral 


Occupation 

Oh,  Poor  Sick  World 

Old  Song,  An 

On  Avon's  Breast  I  Saw  a  Stately  Swan , 

Pain  s  Purpose 

Peace  Shall  Not  Come 

Plow  of  God,  The 

Praise  Day 

Price  He  Paid,  The 

"Protests" 


Rainy  Night,  A 

Recrimination 

Replies 

Revealing  Angels,  The 

Revery  in  the  Station-House,  A 
Reward 


Separation 

Sinus 

Song  of  Faith,  A 

Songs  of  Love  and  the  Sea 

Son  Speaks,  A 

Spinster,  The 

Spur,  The 

Squanderer,  The 

Stairvv'ays  and  Gardens .  .  . 

Suitors,  The 

Superwoman,  The 

Sympathy 


Technique  of  Immortality,  The 
That  Day 


68 


CONTENTS  — Continued 


TKinking  of  CKrist P^^^ 

TKis  is  My  Task 

Traveler,  Tne 

Trinity,  TKe 

Trip  to  Mars,  TKe 

True  Character 

Two  Voices 

Unfaitliful  Wife  to  Her  Husband,  An 

Unsatisfied •  ■  •  •  • 

Unwed  Mother  to  tKe  Wife,  The 


TK. 


Waft  of  Perfume,  A 

War  Mothers 

War  Sonnets _• -  •  • 

We  Must  Send  Tliem  Out  to  Flay 

We  Two 

Weil-Born,  TKe 

WKat  Have  You  Done? 

WKat  They  Saw 

White  Man,  TKe 

Winds  of  Fate,  TKe 


Younger  Born,  TKe 


22 


24 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


This  IS  My  Task  (in  colors) Fronti 

Photographic  Illustration  by  Lcjaren  A.  Hiller  Paj 

The  Duperwoman 

Illustration  by  T.  D.  St^idmore 

Compassion 

Illustration  by  William  de  Leftwich  Dodge 

The  Younger  Born 

Illustration  by  Dalton  Stevens 

It  May  Be 

Photographic  Illustration  by  Lejaren  A.  Hiller 

Beauty 

Illustration  by  Vincent  Aderente 

The  Trinity 

Photographic  Illustration  by  Lejaren  A.  Hiller 

The  Revealing  Angels 

Illustration  by  Paul  Julien  Meylan 

Father  and  Son 

Illustration  by  J.  Scott  Williams 

America 

Illustration  by  Mary  Greene  Blumenshein 

What  They  Sa\v 

Illustration  by  William  HoUinger 

A  Revery  in  the  Station-House 

Illustration  by  T.  D.  Skidmore 

His  Last  Letter 

Illustration  by  Vincent  Aderente 

Happiness 

Illustration  by  William  de  Leftwich  Dodge 

Unsatisnea 

Illustration  by  Charles  A.  Winter 

War  Mothers 

Illustration  by  Charles  A.  Winter 

A  Son  Speaks 

Illustration  by  George  Gibbs 

The  Ghosts 

Illustration  by  W.  T.  Benda 

The  Crimes  of  Peace 

Illustration  by  T.  D.  Skidmore 

A  Good  Sport 

Illustration  by  John  Alonzo  Williams 

Separation 

Illustration  by  Charles  A.  Winter 

Replies 

Illustration  by  Charles  A.  Winter 

The  Convention 

Illustrations  by  Paul  Bransom  and  Will  Foster 

The  Blasphemy  oi  Guns 

Illustration  by  Charles  A.  Winter 


WORLD 
VOICES 


THIS  IS  #T  TASK 


t'i 


WHEN  tKe  wKole  world   resounds  with  rude   alarms 
Of    warring    arms, 
WKen  God's  good  eartK.  from  border  unto  border, 

SKows  man  s  disorder. 

Let  me  not  waste  my  dower  of  mortal  might 
In  grieving  over  wrongs  I  cannot  right. 
This  is  my  task:    Amid  discordant  strife 
To  keep  a  clean,  sweet  center  in  my  life. 
And  though  the  human  orchestra  may  be 
Playing  all  out  of  key. 
To  tune  my  soul  to  symphonies  above 
And  sound  the  note  of  love. 
This  is  my  task. 

When,  by  the  minds  of  men,  most  beauteous  Faitb 
Seems   doomed   to   death. 

And  to  her  place  is  hoisted,  by  soul-treason. 
The   dullard   Reason, 

Let  me  not  hurry  forth  with  flag  unfurled 
To   proselyte   an   unbelieving  world. 
This  is  my  task:    In  depths  of  unstarred  night 
Or  in  diverting  and  distracting  light. 
To  keep  (in  crowds  or  in  my  room  alone) 
Faith  on  her  lofty  throne. 
And  whatsoever  happen   or   befall. 
To  see  God's  hand  in  all. 
This  is  my  task. 

When,  in  churcK  pews,  men  worship  God  in  words. 
But  meet  their  kind  with  swords. 
When  fair  Religion,  stripped  of  holy  passion. 
Walks   masked   as   Fashion, 
Let  me  not  wax  indignant  at  the  sight 
Or  waste  my  strength  bewailing  her  sad  plight. 
This  is  my  task:    To  search  in  my  own  mind 
Until  the  qualities  of  God  I  find; 
To  seek  them  in  the  heart  of  friend  and  foe. 
Or  high  or  low. 

And  in  my  hours  of  toil  or  prayer  or  play. 
To  live  my  creed   each  day. 
This  IS  my  task. 


13 


THE  FORECAST 

//  may  be  that  I  dreamed  a  dream;  it  may  be  that  I  saw 
The  forecast  of  a  time  to  come,  by  some  supernal  lave. 


I  SEEMED  to  dwell  in  tKis  same  world,  and  in  tKis 
modern  time  ; 
All  strife  Kad    ceased ;   men   were   disarmed  ;   and 
quiet   Peace   had   made 

A   thousand   avenues   for  toil,    in   place   of  War  s    grim 
trade. 

From  east  to  west,  from  nortk  to  soutK,  wKere  kigKways 
smooth  and   broad 

Tied  State  to  State,  tKe  waste  lands  bloomed  like  gar- 
den spots  of  God. 

TKere  were  no  beggars  in  tbe  streets ;  tbere  were  no 
unemployed  ; 

For  eacK  man  ow^ned  bis  plot   of   ground,  and    labored 
and  enjoyed. 

Sweet  children  grew  like  garden  flowers,  all  strong  and 
fair  to  see  ; 

And  wben  I  marvelled  at  tbe  sigbt,  tbus  spake  a  Voice 
to  me ; 

"All  Motberbood  is  now  an  art,  tbe  greatest  art  oneartb  ; 

And  nowbere  is  tbere  known  tbe  crime  of  one  unwel- 
come birtb. 

From  rigbts  of  parentage  tbe   sick   and   sinful   are  de- 
barred ; 

For  Matron  Science  keeps  our  bouse,  and  at  tbe  door 
stands   guard. 

We  know  tbe  cure  for  darkness  lies  in  letting  in  tbe 
ligbt ; 

And    Prisons    are    replaced    by    Scbools,    wbere    wrong 
views  cbange  to  rigbt. 

Tbe  wisdom,  knowledge,  study,  tbougbt,  once  bent  on 
beast  and  sod. 

We  ^ive  now  to  tbe  buman  race,  tbe  bigbest  work  of 
God; 

And,  as  tbe  gardener  cbooses  seed,  so  we  select  witb 
care  ; 

And  as  our  Man  Plant  grows,  we  give  bim  soil  and  sun 
and  air. 

Tbere  are  no  slums  ;  no  need  of  alms ;  all  men  are  opu- 
lent. 

For  Motber  Eartb   belongs  to  tbem,   as  was  tbe   First 
Intent. 

It  may  be  that  I  dreamed  a  dream;  it  may  be  that  I  saw 
The  forecast  of  a  time  to  come,  by  some  supernal  law. 


14 


THINKING  OF  CHRIST 


THINKING  oi  Christ  and  hearing  w^Kat  men  say 
Anent  His  Second  coming  some  near  day 
Unto  tne  Me  of  (me),  I  turned  to  ask. 
What  can  Ave  do  for  Him,  and  by  what  task 
Or  through  Avhat  sacrifice,  can  we  proclaim 
Our  mighty  love,  and  glorify  His  name? 

Whereon  myself  replied  (thinking  of  Christ)  : 
Has  not  God  s  glory  unto  Him  sufficed? 
What  need  has  He  of  temples  that  men  raise? 
What  need  has  He  of  any  songs  of  praise? 
Not   sacrifice   nor  offerings   needs   He. 
(Thinking  of  Christ,  so  spake  Myself  to  me.) 

The  rivers  from  the  mountain  do  not  try 
To  feed  the  source  from  which  they  gain  supply ; 
They  pay  their  debt  by  flow^ing  on  and  dow^n. 
And  carrying  comfort  to  the  field  and  tow^n. 
They  scatter  joy  and   beauty  on   their  course. 
In   gratitude   to   the   Eternal   Source. 

And  thus  should  w^e  (thinking  of  Christ)  bestow 
The  full  svi^eet  tides  of  love  that  through  us  flow^ 
Upon   earth  s  w^eaker   creatures.      To  the   less 
Must  flow^  the  greater,  would  we  lift  and  bless 
Christ  is  the   mountain  source;  each   heart  a  river; 
The  thirsting  meadow^s  need  us,  not  the  Giver. 

Thinking  of  Christ,  let  us  proclaim  His  w^orth 
By  gracious  deeds  to  mortals  on  this  earth  ; 
And  w^hile  w^e  w^ait  His  coming,  let  us  bring 
SNveet  love  and  pity  to  the  humblest  thing. 
And  show  our  voiceless  kin  of  air  and  sod 
The  mercy  of  the  Universal  God. 

Not  by  long  prayers,  though  prayers  renew^  our  grace — 

Not  by  tall  spires,  though  steeples  have  their  place — 

Not  by  our  faith,  though  faith  is  glorious — 

Can  we  prove  Christ,  but  by  the  love  in  us. 

Mercy    and    love    and    kindness — seek    these    three. 

Thus  (thinking  of  Christ)  Myself  said  unto  me. 


15 


^/ie  Su.pei^u?omci 

WHAT  will  tKe  superwoman  te,  of  wKom  we  sin 
Sne  w^no  is  coming  over  tne  aim    Dorder 
Ot  far  To-morrow^,  after  eartn  s  disorder 
Is  tiaiea  up  by  Time?    What  w^ill  sKe  bring 
To  make  life  better  on  tempestuous  earth? 
How^  w^iU  ner  w^ortn 
Be  greater  tnan  ner  forebears?    What  new  power 
Witbin  her  being  w^ill  burst  into  now^er? 

One  will  bring  beauty,  not  tne  transient  aow^er 
Of  adolescence  ■wnicn  departs  witn  youtn. 
But  beauty  based  on  knowledge  of  the  truth 

Of  its  eternal  message  and  the  source 

Of  its  all  potent  force. 

Her  outer  being  by  the  inner  thought 
Shall  into  lasting  loveliness  be  w^rought. 

She  vv'ill  bring  virtue ;    but  it  w^iU  not  be 
The  pale,  \vhite  blossom  of  cold  chastity 

Which  hides  a  barren  heart.     She  w^ill  be  human — 
Not  saint  or  angel — but  the  superw^oman. 
Mother  and  mate  and  friend  of  superman. 

She  will  bring  strength  to  aid  the  larger  Plan, 

Wisdom  and  strength  and  sw^eetness  all  combine 
Draw^n  from  the  Cosmic  Mind — 
Wisdom  to  act,  and  courage  to  attain. 
And  sweetness  that  finds  growth  in  joy  or  pain. 

She  v^'iU  bring  that  large  virtue,  self-control. 
And  cherish  it  as  her  supremest  treasure. 
Not  at  the  call  of  sense  or  for  Man  s  pleasure 

Will  she  invite  from  space  an  embryo  soul. 
To  live  on  earth  again  in  mortal  fashion. 
Unless  love  stirs  her  w^ith  divinest  passion. 

To  motherhood,  she  will  bring  common  sense — 

That  most  uncommon  virtue.    She  vv'iU  give 
Love  that  is  more  than  she-wolf  violence, 

(Which  slaughters  others  that  its  own  may  lire). 
Love  that  will  help  each  little  tendril  mind 

To  grow^  and  climb ; 

Love  that  will  know  the  lordliest  use  of  Time 
.  Is  training  human  egos  to  be  kind. 

She  will  be  formed  to  guide,  but  not  to  lead — ■ 
Leaders  are  ever  lonely — and  her  sphere 

Will  be  that  of  the  comrade  and  the  mate. 

Loved,  loving,  and  w^ith  insight  nne  and  clear. 

Which  casts  its  search-light  on  the  course  of  fate. 

And  to  the  leaders  says,  "Proceed"  or  "Wait.  ' 

And  best  of  all,  she  will  bring  holy  faith 
To  penetrate  the  shadowy  w^orld  of  Death, 

And  show  the  road  beyond  it,  bright  and  broad. 

That  leads  straight  up  to  God. 


16 


17 


THE  PRICE  HE  PAID 


I  SAID  I  w^ould  have  my  fling. 
And  do  w^nat  a  young  man  may ; 
And  I  didn  t  believe  a  tKing 
That  the  parsons  have  to  say. 
I  didn  t  believe  in  a  God 
Tnat  gives  us  blood  like  nre, 
Tnen  flings  us  into  nell  because 
We  ansNver  tne  call  of  desire. 

And  I  said  :     Religion  is  rot. 
And  the  laAvs  of  tne  w^orld  are  ml ; 
For  tne  bad  man  is  ne  -who  is  caugnt 
And  cannot  foot  nis  bill. 
And  there  is  no  place  called  hell ; 
And  neaven  is  only  a  trutb 
Wnen  a  man  has  his  way  Avith  a  maid 
'  In  the  fresh  keen  hour  oi  youth. 

"And  money  can  buy  us  grace. 

If  it  rings  on  the  plate  of  the  church  ; 

And   money  can  neatly  erase 

Each  sign  of  a  sinful  smirch. 

For  I  saw  men  everywhere. 

Hotfooting  the  road  of  vice  ; 

And  women  and  preachers  smiled  on  them 

As  long  as  they  paid  the  price. 

So  I  had  my  joy  of  life  : 

I  went  the  pace  of  the  town  ; 

And  then  I  took  me  a  \vife. 

And  started  to  settle  down, 

I  had  gold  enough  and  to  spare 

For  all  of  the  simpler  joys 

That  belong  w^ith  a  house  and  a  home 

And  a  brood  of  girls  and  boys. 

I  married  a  girl  with  health 

And  virtue  and  spotless  fame. 

I  gave  in  exchange  my  w^ealth 

And  a  proud  old  family  name. 

And  I  gave  her  the  love  of  a  heart 

Grown  sated  and  sick  of  sin! 

My  deal  with  the  devil  ^vas  all  cleaned  up. 

And  the  last  bill  handed  in. 


18 


SKe  was  going  to  bring  me  a  child. 
And  wKen  in  labour  sKe  cried 
With  love  and  fear  I  was  wild — 
But  now  I  wish  she  had  died. 
For  the  son  she  bore  me  was  bund 
And  crippled  and  weak  and  sore! 
And  his  mother  was  left  a  wreck. 
It  was  so  she  settled  my  score. 

I  said  I  must  have  my  fling. 

And  they  knew  the  path  I  would  go ; 

Yet  no  one  told  me  a  thing 

Of  what  I  needed  to  know. 

Folks  talk  too  much  of  a  soul 

From  heavenly  joys  debarred — 

And  not  enough  of  the  babes  unborn. 

By  the  sins  of  their  fathers  scarred. 


PRAISE  DAY 


Let  us  halt  now  for  a  space  in  our  hurrying 
Let  us  take  time  to  look  up  and  look  out. 
Let  us  refuse  for  a  spell  to  be  worrying; 
Let  us  decline  both  to  question  or  doubt. 
If  one  goes  caviling 

Hair  splitting,  flaw  hunting,  ready  for  strife. 
All  the  best  pleasure  is  missed  in  the  traveling 
Onward  through  life. 

Just  for  today  we  will  put  away  sorrowing 
Just  for  today  not  a  tear  shall  be  shed. 
Nor  will  we  fear  anything  or  go  borrowing 
Pain   from   the   future    by   profitless   dread. 
Thought    shall    go    frolicking 
Pleasuring,    treasuring,    everything    bright; 
Tasting  the  joy  that  is  found  just  in  rolicking 
On  through  the  light. 

Just  for  today  all  the  ills  that  need  bettering 
We  will  omit  from  our  notebook  of  mind. 
All  that  is  good  we  will  mark  by  red  lettering; 
Those  things  alone  we  are  seeking  to  find. 
Things   to   be   sad   over. 
Pine  over,  whine  over,  pass  them,  1  say. 

Nothing  is  noted  save  what  we  are  glad  over 

This   is   Praise   Day. 


19 


20 


COMPASSION 


HE  was  a  failure ;  and  one  day  Ke  died. 
Across  tKe  border  of  the  mapless  land 
He  found  Himself  amon^  a  sad-eyed  band 
Of  disappointed  souls :  tbey,  too,  had  tired 
And  missed  tbeir  purpose.     WitK  one  voice  they  cried 
Unto  the  shining  Angel  in  command 
"Oh,  lead  us  not  before  our  Lord  to  stand^^ 
For  we  are  failures,  failures.      Let  us  hide. 

Yet  on.the  Angel  fared  until  they  stood 
Before  the  Master.      (Even  his  holy  place 
The  hideous  noises  of  the  earth  assailed.) 

Christ  reached  his  arms  out  to  the  trembling  brood. 
With  God's  vast  sorrow  in  Kis  listening  4ace.   ^^ 
"Come  unto  me,"  he  said,  "I,  too,  have  failed. 


1^ 


GYPSYING 


GYPSYING,      gfypsying,      tKrougK      tKe      world 
together. 
Never    mina    tne    way     we     go,     never    mina 
w^nat  port. 
FoIlow^   trails,    or   lasnion    sails,    start   in    any   ^veatner : 
WKile  w^e  journey  hand   in   hand,   everything  is   sport. 

Gypsying,   gypsying,   leaving  care   and  worry ; 

Never    mind    the       if      and       but       (words    for    coward 

lips)- 
Put   tKem   out  w^itn      fear      and      doubt,      in   the   pack 

w^itb      nurry, 
Wbile  w^e  stroll  like  vagabonds  fortn  to  trails,  or  snips. 

Gypsying,    gypsying,    just   w^here    fancy    calls    us; 
Never  mind  what  others  say,  or  what  others  do. 
Everyw^bere   or  foul  or  fair,   liking  wbat   befalls  us  ; 
Wbile  you  have  me  at  your  side,  and  w^hile  I  nave  you. 

Gypsying,   gypsying,   camp  by  hill  or  hollow^ ; 
Never  mind  tbe  \vny  of  it,  since  it  suits  our  mood. 
Go  or  stay,  and  pay  our  w^ay,  and  let  those  \vho  follow^ 
Find,  upspringing   from    the    soil,  some    small    seed   of 
good. 

Gypsying,    gypsying,    through    the    w^orld    w^e    w^ander ; 
Never    mind    the    rushing   years    that    have    come    and 

gone. 
There  must  be  for  you  and  me,  lying  over  Yonder, 
Other  lands,  w^here  side  by  side  w^e  can  gypsy  on. 


THE  VOICE 

I  dreamed  a   Voice,  of  one  God-authorized, 
Cried   loudly   thro     the   world,   "Disarm!   Disarm! 
And  there  w^as  consternation  m  the  camps  ; 
And  men  w^ho  strutted  under  braid  and  lace 
Beat    on    their    medalled    breasts,    and    ^valled,       Un- 
done ! 
The  word  w^as  echoed  from  a  thousand  hills. 
And  shop  and  mill  and  factory  and  forge. 
Where  throve  the  aw^ful  industries  of  earth. 
Hushed   into   silence.      Scraw^led   upon   the   doors. 
The  passer  read.      Peace  bids  her  children  starve. 
But  foolish  w^omen  clasped  their  little  sons 
And  w^ept  for  joy,  not  reasoning  like  men. 


22 


Again  the   Voice  commanciecl :  "Now  go  fortK 

And  build  a  world  for  Progress  and  for  Peace. 

TKis  work  Kas  waited   since  the   earth  was  shaped; 

But  men  were  fighting  and  they  could  not  tod. 

The  needs  of  life  outnumber  needs  of  death ; 

Leave  death  with  God.      Go  forth,   I  say,   and   build.' 

And  then  a  sudden,  comprehensive  joy 
Shone  in  the  eyes  of  men;  and  one  who  thought 
Only  of  conquests   and  of  victories 
Woke  from  his  gloomy  reverie  and  cried, 
"Ay,  come  and  build !  I  challenge  all  to  try. 
And  I  will  make  a  world  more  beautiful 
Than  Eden  was  before  the  serpent  came. 
And  like  a  running  flame  on  western  wdds. 
Ambition  spread  from  mind  to  listening  mind. 
And  lo!  the  looms  were  busy  once  again. 
And  all  the  earth  resounded  with  men's  tod. 

Vast  palaces  of  Science  graced  the  world  ; 

Their  banquet-tables   spread   with   feasts   of  truth 

For  all  who  hungered.      Music  kissed  the  air 

Once  rent  with  boom  of  cannons.      Statues  gleamed 

From  wooded  rays  where  ambushed  armies  hid 

In  times  of  old.      The  sea  and  air  were  gay 

With  shining  sails  that  soared  from  land  to  land. 

A  universal  language  of  the   world 

Made  nations  kind,  and  poverty  was  known 

But  as  a  word  marked  obsolete,  like  war. 

The  arts  were   kindled  with  celestial  fire. 

Now  poets   sang  so  Homer's  fame   grew  dim; 
And   brush   and   chisel  gave   the   wondering  race 
Sublimer  treasures  than  old  Greece  displayed. 
Men  differed  still;  fierce  argument  arose; 
For  men  are  human  in  this  human  sphere  ; 
But   unarmed    Arbitration    stood    between. 
And  reason  settled  in  a  hundred  hours 
What  War  disputed  for  a  hundred  years. 

Oh,  that  a  Voice  of  one  God-authorized 
Might  cry  to  all  mankind,  "Disarm!  Disarm!" 


23 


^fie'TJoun^er^orn 

TFie  modern  English-ypeaking  young  girl  is  the  astonishment  of  the  worlcJ 
and  the  despair  of  the  older  generation.  Nothing  like  her  has  ever  been  seen 
or  heard  before.  Alike  in  drawing-rooms  and  the  amusement  places  of  the 
people,  she  defies  long-established  conventions  in  dress,  speech,  and  conduct. 
She  is  hold,  yet  not  immoral.  She  is  immodest,  yet  she  is  chaste.  She  has 
no  ideals,  yet  she  is  kind  and  generous.      She   is   an   anomaly   and   a   paradox. 

\Jf7^E  are  the  little  daughters  of  Time  and  the  World,  his  wife; 
^y       We  are  not  like  the  children  born  in  their  younger  life; 
We  are  marred  with  our  mother's  follies  and  torn  with 
our  father's  strife. 

We  are  the  little  daughters  of  the  modern  World 

And  Time,  her  spouse. 

She  had  brought  many  children  to  our  father  s. house 
Before  we  came,  when  both  our  parents  w^ere  content 
With  simple  pleasures  and  w^ith  quiet,  homely  w^ays. 

Modest  and  mild 
Were  the  fair  daughters  born  to  them  m  those  fair  days, 

Modest  and  mild. 

But  Father  Time  grew  restless  and  longed  for  a  swifter  pace. 
And  our  mother  pushed  out  beside  him  at  the  cost  of  her  tender - 

grace. 
And  life  "was  no  more  living,  but  just  a  headlong  race. 


w^e  are  w^i 


Id- 


And 

Yea,  w^ild  are  we,  the  younger  born  of  the  World. 

Into  life  s  vortex  hurled. 
With  the  milk  of  our  mother  s  breast 
We  drank  her  ow^n  unrest. 

And  w^e  learned  our  speech  from  Time, 

Who  scoffs  at  the  things  sublime. 
Time  and  the  World  have  hurried  so. 
They  could  not  help  their  younger  born  to  grow^. 
We  only  foUow^,  follovt^  w^here  they  go. 

They  left  their  high  ideals  behind  them  as  they  ran : 
There  was  but  one  goal — pleasure  for  Woman  or  for  Man, 
And  they  robbed  the  nights  of  slumber  to  lengthen  the  day^s'  brief 
span. 

We  are  the  demi-virgms  of  the  modern  day; 

All  evil  on  the  earth  is  know^n  to  us  in  thought. 

But  yet  w^e  do  it  not. 

We  bare  our  beauteous  bodies  to  the  gaze  of  men ; 

We  lure  them,  tempt  them,  lead  them  on.  and  then 
Lightly  w^e  turn  away. 
By  strong,  compelling  passion  w^e  are  never  stirred  ; 

To  us  it  is  a  word 

A  w^ord  much  used  when  tragic  tales  are  told. 
We  are  the  younger  born,  yet  we  are  very  old 


24 


In  un<Jerstanding,  and  our  knowledge  makes  us  bold. 

Boldly  we  look  at  life. 

Loving  its  stress  and  strife. 

And  Hating  all  conventions  that  n^ay  mean  restraint. 

Yet  sKunning  sin  s  black  taint. 

We  know^  >vine  s  taste ; 

And  the  young-maiden  oloom  and  sweetness  of  our  lips 

Is  often  m  eclipse. 

Under  the  Dro\vn  weed  s  stain. 
Yet  we  are  chaste. 

We  have  no  large  capacity  for  joy  or  pain. 
But  an  insatiable  appetite  for  pleasure. 
We  have  no  use  for  leisure. 

And  never  learned  the  meaning  of  that  word  "repose." 
Life,  as  it  goes. 

Must  spell  excitement  for  us.  ue  the  cost  w^hat  may. 
Speeding  along  the  ^vay, 

We  ofttimes  pause  to  do  some  generous  little  deed 
And  rill  the  cup  of  need ; 
For  we  are  kind  at  heart. 

Though  with  less  heart  than  head. 

Unmoral,  not  immoral,  when  the  worst  is  said. 
We  are  the  product  of  the  modern  day. 

We  are  the  little  daughters  of  Time  and  the  World,  his  wife; 
We  are  not  li/^e  the  children  born  in  thsir  younger  life; 
We  are  marred  with  our  mother's  follies  and  lorn  Jvith  our  father's 
.strife. 


CONTRASTS 


A  GREAT  gold  sun  in  the  skies  above  us ; 
A  great  green  world  about; 
Fair  winds  out. 
And   a    blue   sea  now^ing ; 
And  boats  w^itn  w^hite  sails  coming  and  going. 
For  the  friends  we  love  and  tlie  friends  ^vKo  love  us. 
Sing  no — sing — • 
Life  IS  a  goodly  thing. 

(  The  prison  stands  against  the  s\y 

A  monument  of  gloom; 

The  dead  are  there  who  did  not  die 

Yet  dwell  within  a  tomb. 

If  summers  come  or  winters  go 

They  do  not  seem  to  care,  or  kpow; 

They  do  not  sing,  they  do  not  sing.) 

Birds  in  tne  orchard  and   bees  in  tne  clover 

Rainbow^s  abloom  in  the  sod  ; 

Lovers  abroad  ; 

And    somebody    singing 

An  old  sw^eet  air  on  taut  strings  ringing. 

And  on  m  the  w^oodlands  tne  cry  of  a  lover. 

Sing  no,  I  say — • 

Life  IS  a  holiday. 

(  The  Factory  of  ends  the  air — 
With  shrill  imperious  calls; 
And  little  children  hurrying  there 
Are  lost  within  its  walls; 
It  does  not  matter  much  someway 
If  bright  or  dar\  the  outer  day. 
They  do  not  sing,  they  do  not  sing.) 


BELGIUM 

Ruined?      Destroyed?      An,  no;  tnougn  blood  in  rivers 

ran 
Dow^n  all  ner  ancient  streets  ;  tnougn  treasures  mam- 

fold, 
Love-w^rougnt,    time-mellow^ed,    and    beyond    the    price 

of  gold 
Are  lost,  yet  Belgium  s  star  snines  still    in  God  s    vast 

plan. 

Rarely    have    kings    been    great,    since    kingdoms    nrst 

began ; 
Rarely  have  great  kings   been   great  men  w^hen  all  was 

told. 
But,  by  the  lignted  torch  in  mailed  hands,  benold 
Immortal  Belgium  s  immortal  king,   and  man. 


26 


IF  I  WERE  A  MAN,  A 
YOUNG  MAN 


IF   I  were   a  man,  a  youn^    man    and    knew  w^Kat  I 
kno^v  today, 
I  would  look  in  tlie  eyes  of  Life  undaunted 
By  any  Fate  that  migKt  threaten  me. 
1  would  give  to  tne  ^vorld  ^vnat  the  world  most  wanted — 
Manhood  that  knows  it  can  do  and  be ; 
Courage  that  dares,  and  faith  that  can  see 
Clear  into  the  depths  of  the  human  soul. 
And  nnd  God  there,  and  the  ultimate  goal — 
If  I  were  a  man,  a  young  man,  and  knew^  w^hat  I  know 
today 


If  I  were  a  man,  a  young  man,  and  knew  what  I  know 
today, 

I  would   think  of  myself  as  the  masterful  creature 

Of  all  the  masterful  plan  ; 
The  Formless  Cause,  \vith  form  and  feature  ; 

The  Power  that  heeds  not  limit  or  ban  ; 

Man,  wonderful  man. 
I  w^ould   do  good   deeds,  and  forget  them   straight\vay ; 

I  would  weave  my  \voes  into  ropes  and  climb 
Up  to  the  heights  of  the  helper  s  gateway; 

And  Life  should  serve  me,  and  Time, 

And  I  ^vould  sail  out,  and  out,  and  find 

The  treasures  that  lie  in  that  deep  sea. 

Mind. 

I  w^ould  dream,  and  think,  and  act ; 
I  w^ould  work,  and  love,  and  pray. 

Till  each  dream  and  vision  grew  into  a  fact 
If  I  were  a  man,  a  young  man,  and  knew^  what  I  know 
today. 


If  I  w^ere  a  man,  a  young  man,  and  knew  w^hat  I  know 
today, 
I  would  guard  my  passions  as  Kings  guard  treasures. 

And  keep  them  high  and  clean, 
(For  the  ^vlll  of  a  man,  with  his  passions  measures  ; 
It  IS  strong  as  they  are  keen.) 
I  w^ould  think  of  each  woman  as  some  one  s  mother ; 
I  w^ould  think  of  each  man  as  my  own  blood  brother. 
And   speed    him    along   on   his   way. 
And  the  glory  of  life  in  this  ^vonderful  hour 
Should  fill  me  and  thrill  me  \vith   conscious   po\ver. 
If  I  w^ere  a  man,  a  young  man    and  knew^  what  I  knoNv 
today. 


27 


City  on  city  rising,  steeple  out-topping  steeple, 
Gaining   ana   noaraing  ana  spending,  ana  armies  on 

battle  bent. 
People  ana  people  ana  people,  ana  ever  more  human 

people — 
This   is   not   all   of   creation,  this   is   not  all  that  was 

Garth  on  its  orbit  spinning. 

This  is  not  end  nor  beginning; 

That  is  but  one  of  a  trillion  spheres  out  into  the  ether 

hurled  : 
We  move  in  a  zone  of  ^vonder. 
And  over  our  planet  and  under. 
Are  infinite  orders  of  beings  and   marvels  of  world 

on  world. 


28 


There    may  be    moving   among  us,  curious    people  and 

races. 
Folk    of   the  fourth   dimension,   folk    of    the   vast   star 

spaces. 
Tliey  may  be  trying  to  reach  us. 
They  may  be   longing  to   teach   us 
Tilings  we  are  longing  to  kno'w. 
If   it   is   so. 

Voices  like  these  are  not  heard  in  earth  s  riot. 
Let   us   be   quiet. 

Classes   with    classes     disputing,     nation    ■\varripg    \vitn 

nation. 
Building  and   owning  and  seeking  to  lead — this   is  not 

all! 
Endless  the  works  of  creation. 
There  may  be  waiting  our  call 
Beings  in  numberless  legions. 
Dwellers  in  rarefied  regions. 
Journeying   Godward   like   us, 
Aiibt   for   a   -word   to   be   spoken, 
Awatch  for  a  sign  or  a  token. 
If  it  be  thus. 

How  they  must  grieve  at  our  riotous  noise 
And  the  things  we  call  duties  and  joys  ! 

Let  us  be  silent  for  a  little  while; 

Let  us  be  still  and  listen.     We  may  hear 

Echoes  from  other  worlds  not  far  away 


29 


AN  OLD  SONG 


Two  roadways  lead  from  This  land  to  That ;  and  one  is  the 

road  of  Prayer  ; 
And  one   is  the  road  of  Old  Time  Songs,  and  every  note  is 

a  stair. 


A  SHABBY     old    man  witk    a    music  macKme  on 
tke  sordid    city   street, — 
But  suddenly   eartK   seemed  Arcady,  and  liie 
grew   young  and  sweet 
For  tKe  city  street  fled  and  tKe  world  was  green  and  a 

little  Kouse  stood  by  tKe  sea; 
And  sKe  came  singing  a  martial  air  (sKe  wko  was  peace 

itself)  ; 
SKe   KrougKt  back  witK   Ker  tKe  old   strange  cKarm  of 

mingled  patKos  and  glee  ; 
WitK  Ker  eyes  of  a  cKild  in  a  woman's  face  and  Ker  soul 
of  a  saint  in  an  elf. 

SKe  Kad  been  gone  for  many  a  year,  tKey  tell  us  it  is 

not  far, — 
TKat  silent  place  wKere  tKe  dear  ones  go  but  it  migKt 

as  well   be   a  star. 
Yes  it  migKt  as  well  be   a  distant  star,   as  a  beautiful 

Near-By-Land. 
If  w^e  Kear  no  voice,  and  see  no  face,  and  feel  no  touch 

of  a  Kand. 

But  now  sKe  Kad  come,  for  I  saw  Ker  tKere,  and  sKe 

looked  so  blitKe  and  young; 
(Not  wKite  and  still  as  I  saw  Ker  last)  and  tKe  rose  tKat 

sKe  wore  w^as  red  ; 
And  Ker  voice  soared  up  in  a  birdlike  trill,   at   tKe   end 

of  tKe  song  sKe  sung. 
And  sKe  mimicked  a  soldier's  warlike  stride  and  tossed 

back  Ker  dear  little  Kead. 

SKe  Kad  been  gone  for  many  a  year,  and  never  came 

back  before  ; 
But  I  tKink  sKe  dwells  in  a  Near-By-Land  since  a  song 

jarred  open  tKe  door; 
Yes  I   tKink  it  is   surely    a  Near-By-Land,   tKat    place 

w^Kere  our  loved  ones  are 
For  tKe  song  would  never  Kave  reacKed  Ker  ear  Kad  sKe 

been  on  a  distant  star. 

Two  roadways  lead  from  This  land  to  That ;  and  one  is  the 

road  of  Prayer; 
And  one  is   the  road  of  Old  Time  Songs,  and  every  note  is  a 

stair. 


30 


I 


ARISTARCHUS 

(TKe  Name  of  the  Mountain  in  tKe  Moon) 

1    was  lon^  ana  long  ago  our  love  began  ; 

It    IS    something    all    unmeasured     by     time  s 
span : 
In  an  era  and  a  spot,  by  the  Modern  World  forgot. 
We  w^ere  lovers,  ere  God  named  us.  Maid  and  Man. 

Like  the  memory  of  music  made  by  streams. 
All  the  beauty  of  that  other  lifetime  seems ; 
But  I  alw^ays  thought  it  so,  and  at  last  I  Kno\v,  I  know. 
We  Avere  lovers  m  the  land  of  Silver  Dreams. 

When  the  moon  w^as  at  the  full,  I  found  the  place  ; 
Out  and  out,  across  the  seas  of  shining  space. 
On  a  quest  that  could  not  fail,  I  unfurled  my  memory  s 
sail 
And  cast  anchor  m  the  Bay  of  Love  s  First  Grace. 

At  the  foot  of  Aristarchus  lies  this  bay 
(Oh  !  the  w^onder  of  that  mountain  far  aw^ay) 
And  the  Land  of  Silver  Dreams  all  about  it  shines  and 
gleams. 
Where  w^e  loved  before  God  fashioned  night  or  day. 

We  were  souls,  in  eerie  bodies  made  of  light; 
We  w^ere  w^inged,  and  we  could  speed  from  height  to 

height. 
And  w^e  built  a  nest  called  Hope,  on  the  sheer  Moon 

Mountain  Slope, 
Where  w^e  sat  and  w^atched  new  w^orlds  wheel  into 

sight. 

And  w^e  saw^  this  little  planet  known  as  Earth, 

When  the  mighty  Mother  Chaos  gave  it  birth  ; 

But  in  Love  s  conceit  we  thought  all  those  w^orlds  from 

space  w^ere  brought. 

For  no  greater  aim  or  purpose  than  our  mirth. 

And  w^e  laughed  in  love  s  abandon,   and  we   sang. 
Till  the  echoing  peals  of  Aristarchus  rang. 
As  hot  hissing  comets  came,  and  w^hite  suns  burst  into 
name. 
And  a  myriad  worlds  from  out  the  darkness  sprang. 

I  can  show^  you,  w^hen  the  moon  is  at  its  best, 
Aristarchus,  and  the  spot  w^e  made  our  nest. 
Oh  !  I  alw^ays  w^ondered  w^hy,  w^hen  the  moon  was    in 
the  sky 
I  w^as  stirred  with  such  strange  longing  and  unrest. 

And  I  knew  the  subtle  beauty  and  the  force 
Of  our  love  was  never  bounded  by  Earth  s  course. 
So  with  Memory's  sail  unfurled,  I  went  cruising  past 
this  w^orld. 
And  I  followed  till  I  traced  it  to  its  source. 


^Yl 


31 


tttIBEAUTT 

'T'HE  search  for  heauly  is  ihe  search  for  God, 

Who  is  Jill  ^eaui'y.     He  who  seeks  shall  find; 
And  all  along  ihe  paths  my  feel  have  irod, 

I  have  sought  hungrily  with  heart  and  mind 
jind  open  eyes  for  beaut})  everywhere. 
Lo!  I  have  found  the  world  is  very  fair. 
The  search  for  beauty  is  the  search  for  God. 

Beauty  was  iirst  revealed  to  me  by  stars. 

Before  1  saw  it  in  my  motner  s  eyes. 
Or.  seeing,  sensed  it  beauty,  I  was  stirred 
To  aw^e  and  ^vonder  by  tnose  orbs  of  lignt. 

All  palpitant  against  empurpled  skies. 
TKey  spoke  a  language  to  my  childisn  heart 
Of  mystery  and  splendor  and  of  space. 
Friendly  witK  gracious,  unseen  presences. 
Beauty  was  first  revealed  to  me  by  stars. 

Sunsets  enlarged  tbe  meaning  of  the  word. 

TKere  was  a  ■window^  looking  to  the  w^est ; 
Beyond  it,  wide  Wiscohsin  fields  of  grain. 
And  then  a  hill,  whereon  white  flocks  of  clouds 

Would  gather  in  the  afternoon  to  rest. 
And  when  the  sun  went  down  behind  that  hill. 
What  scenes  of  glory  spread  before  my  sight — 
What  beauty — beauty,  absolute,  supreme! 
Sunsets  enlarged  the  meaning  of  that  word. 

Clover  in  blossom,  red  and  honey-sweet. 

In  summer  billowed  like  a  crimson  sea 
Across  the  meadow  lands.      One  day,  1  stood 
Breast-high  amidst  its  waves,  and  heard  the  hum 

Of  myriad  bees  that  had  gone  mad  like  me 
With  fragrance  and  with  beauty.      Over  us, 
A  loving  sun  smiled  from  a  cloudless  sky. 
While  a  bold  breeze  kissed  lightly  as  it  passed 
Clover  in  blossom,  red  and  honey-sweet. 

Autumn  spoke  loudly  of  the  beautiful. 
And  in  the  gallery  of  Nature  hung 
Colossal  pictures  hard  against  the  sky. 
Set  forests  gorgeous  with  a  hundred  hues. 

And  with  each  morning  some  new  wonder  flung 
Before  the  startled  world — some  daring  shade. 
Some  strange,  new  schenne  of  color  and  of  form. 
Autumn  spoke  loudly  of  the  beautiiul. 


32 


■  I,  II  ■■,■  WBBBt 


€*' 


^^ 


Winter,  tKougk  rude,  is  delicate  in  art- 
More  delicate  tKan  summer  or  tnan  lall 
(Even  as  rugged  Man  is  more  refined 
In  vital  things  tKan  Woman).      Winter  s  toucK 
On  Nature  seemed  most  Deautiiul  of  all — 
Tnat  evanescent  beauty  of  tKe  frost 
On  window-panes,  of  clean,  fresh-fallen  snow. 
Of  wKite,  white  sunlight  on  the  ice-draped  trees. 
Winter,  though  rude,  is  delicate  in  art. 

Morning !      The  word  itself  is  beautiful. 

And  the  young  hours  have  many  gifts  to  give 
That  feed  the  soul  w^ith  beauty.      He  w^ho  keeps 
His  days  for  labor  and  his  nights  for  sleep 

Wakes  conscious  of  the  joy  it  is  to  live. 
And  brings  from  that  mysterious  Land  of  Dreams 
A  sense  of  beauty  that  illumines  earth. 
Morning!      The  word  itself  is  beautiful. 

The  search  for  beauty  is  the  search  for  God. 


33 


THE  EARTH 


TO  build  a  house,  Avith  love  for  arcliitect. 
Ranks  first  and   foremost  in  tKe  joys  of  life 
And  m  a  tiny  cabin,  snaped  for  two, 
TKe  space  for  happiness  is  just  as  great 
As  in  a  palace.      Wnat  a  >vorld  >vere  this 
If  eacn  soul  born,  received  a  plot  of  ground ; 
A  little  plot,  whereon  a  home  might  rise. 
And  beauteous  green  things  grow! 
We   give   the  dead. 
The  idle  vagrant  dead,  the  Potter  s  Field ; 
Yet  to  the  living  not  one  inch  of  soil. 
Nay,  v^'e  take  from  them  soil,  and  sun,  and  air. 
To  fashion  slums  and  hell-holes  for  the  race. 
And  to  our  poor  w^e  say.     Go  starve  and  die 
As  beggars  die  ;  so  gain  your  heritage. 


This  w^as  a  most  uncanny  dream ;  I  thought  the  wraiths 

of  those 
Long  buried  in  the  Potter  s  Field,  in  shredded  shrouds 
arose ; 
They  said.     Against  the  w^ill  of  God 
We  have  usurped  the  fertile  sod. 
Now  w^iU  ■we  make  it  yield. 


Oh  !  but  it  w^as  a  gruesome  sight,  to  see  those  phantoms 

toil; 
Each  to  his  own  small  garden  bent ;  each  spaded  up  the 
soil; 
(I  never  kne^v  Ghosts  labored  so.) 
Each  scattered  seed,  and  w^atched,  till  lo ! 
The  Graves  w^ere  opulent. 


Then  all  among  the  fragrant  greens,  the  silent    spectral 

train. 
Walked,    as   if  breathing   in   the   breath   of   plant,    and 
flower,  and  grain, 
(I  never   knew^   Ghosts  loved   such   things ; 
Perchance  it  brought  back  early  springs 
Before  they  thought  of  death.) 


th< 


irth    fc 


*'The    mothers     milk    for    living    babes ; 

living   hosts ; 
The     clean     flame     for     the     un-souled     dead.         (Oh, 
strange  the  ^vords  of  Ghosts.) 
"If  w^e  had  owned  this  little  spot 
In  life,  we  need  not  lie  and  rot 
Here  in  a  pauper  s  bed 


34 


THE  WHITE  MAN 


WHEREVER   tKe  white   man's  feet  have  trod 
(Oh,  far  does  the  white  man  stray) 
A  bold  road  rifles  the  virginal  sod. 
And  the  forest  wakes  out  of  its  dream  of  God, 
To  yield  him  the  right  of  w^ay. 
For  this  is  the  law :      By  the  pouccr  of  thought. 
For  worse,  or  for  better,  are  miracles  wrought. 

Wherever  the  white  man  s   pathw^ay  leads, 

(Far,   far  has   that   path^vay   gone) 

The  earth  is  littered  w^ith  broken  creeds — 

And  always  the  dark  man  s  tent  recedes. 

And  the  w^hite  man  pushes  on. 

For  this  is  the  law :      Be  it  good  or  ill. 

All  things  must  yield  to  the  stronger  will. 

Wherever  the  white  man  s  light  is  shed, 

(Oh,  far  has  that  light  teen  throw^n) 

Though  nature  has  suffered  and  beauty  oled. 

Yet  the  goal  of  the  race  has  been  thrust  ahead. 

And  the  might  of  the  race  has  grown. 

For  this  is  the  law :     Be  it  cruel  or  ki^d. 

The  Universe  sways  to  the  power  of  mind. 


AFTER 

Over  the  din  of  battle. 

Over  the  cannons    rattle. 

Over  the  strident  voices  of  men  and  their  dying  groans, 

I  hear  the  falling  of  thrones. 

Out  of  the  w^ild  disorder 

That  spreads  from  border  to  border, 

I  see  a  new^  w^orld  rising  from  ashes  of  ancient  towns ; 

And  the  Rulers  w^ear  no  crow^ns. 

Over  the  blood-charged  water. 

Over  the  fields  of  slaughter, 

Down  to  the  hidden  vaults  of  Time,  w^here  lie  the  ^vorn- 

out  things 
I  see  the  passing  of  Kings. 


35 


36 


Woman  may  alter  tKe  first  great  plan. 
Daughters   ana   sisters   and   motners 
May  stalk  witn  their  brotners. 
Forth  from  their  homes  into  noisy  places 
Fit     (ana  nt  only)  for  masculine  man. 
Marring  their  graces 
With  conflict  and  strife 

To  Aviden  the  outlook  of  all  human  life. 
Yet  some  things  ever  must  stay  as  they  are 
While  the  sea  has  its  tide  and  the  sky  has  its  star. 
A  man  and  a  woman  ^vith  love  that  strengthens 
And  gathers  new  force  as  its  earth  w^ay  lengthens; 
Nothing  better  by  God  is  given 
This  side  of  heaven. 


Science  may  show  us  a  w^onderful,   vast 
Secret  of  life  and  of  breeding  it ; 
Man  by  the  heeding  it 

Out  of  earth  s  chaos  may  bring  a  new^  order. 
Oft  v^'lth  old  systems  old  laws  may  be  cast. 
What  now^  seems  the   border 
Of  license  in  creeds 

May  then   be  the  center  of  thoughts   and   of  deeds. 
Yet  some  things  ever  must  stay  as  they  are 
While  the  sea  has  its  tide  and  the  sky  has  its  star. 
A  man  and  a  ^voman  and  love  undefiled 
And  the  look  of  the  tw^o  m  the  face  of  a  child — 
Oh,  the  joys  of  this  w^orld  have  their  changing  w^ays. 
But  this  )oy  stays. 
Nothing  better  on  earth  can  be 
Than  just  those  three. 


THE  EDICT  OF  THE  SEX 


TWO  tKousanci  years  nad   passed   since   Cnnst 
>vas  Dorn, 
WKen  suddenly  tKere  rose  a  mi^Kty  host 
Of  women,  sweeping  to  a  central  goal 
As  many  rivers  sweep  on  to  the  sea. 

TKey  came  from  mountains,   valleys,  and  from  coasts 
And  from  all  lands,  all  nations,  and  all  ranks. 
Speaking  all  languages,  but  thinking  one. 
And  that  one  language — Peace. 

"Listen,      tney  said. 
And  straightway  was  there  silence  on  the  earth. 
For  men  were  dumb  with  wonder  and  surprise. 
"Listen,  O  mighty  masters  of  the  world. 
And  hear  the  edict  of  all  womankind  ; 
Since  Christ  His  new  commandment  gave  to  men 
Xove  one  another,'  full  two  thousand  years 
Have  passed  away,  yet  earth  is  red  w^ith  blood. 
The  strong  male  rulers  of  the  world  proclaim 
Their  weakness,  when  we  ask  that  war  shall  cease. 

Now^  will  the  poor  w^eak  w^omen  of  the  w^orld 

Proclaim  their  strength,  and  say  that  war  shall  end. 

Hear,  then,  our  edict :  Never  from  this  day 

Will  any  woman  on  the  crust  of  earth 

Mother  a  warrior.      We  have  sworn  the  oath 

And  will  go  barren  to  the  waiting  tomb 

Rather  than  breed  strong  sons  at  war  s  behest. 

Or  bring  fair  daughters  into  life,  to  bear 

The  pains  of  travail,  for  no  end  but  war. 

Ay!  let  the  race  die  out  for  lack  of  babes: 

Better  a  dying  race  than  endless  wars! 

Better  a  silent  world  than  noise  of  guns 

And  clash  of  armies. 

"Long  w^e  asked  for  peace, 
And  oft  you  promised — but  to  nght  again. 
At  last  you  told  us,  war  must  ever  be 
While  men  existed,  laughing  at  our  plea 
For  the  disarmament  of  all  mankind. 
Then  in  our  hearts  flamed  such  a  mad  desire 
For  peace  on  earth,  as  lights  the  world  at  times 
With  some  great  conflagration;  and   it  spread 
From  distant  land  to  land,  from  sea  to  sea. 
Until  all  women  thought  as  with  one  mind 
And  spoke  as  with  one  voice  ;  and  now  behold ! 
The  great  Crusading  Syndicate  of  Peace. 
Filling  all  space  with  one  supreme  resolve. 
Give  us,  O  men,  your  word  that  war  shall  end: 
Disarm  the  world,  and  we  will  give  you  sons — 
Sons  to  construct,   and  daughters   to  adorn 
A  beautiful  new  earth,  where  there  shall  be 


38 


Fewer  and  hner  people,  opulence 

And  opportunity  and  peace  for  all. 

Until  you   promise   peace  no  sKrill  birtn-cry 

Dnall  sound  again  upon  tne  ageing  eartn. 

We  wait  your  answ^er. 

And  tne  w^orld  w^as  still. 
While  men  considered. 


THE  HARP 


TKe  Harp  is  dual  natured — Heaven  and  Eartn 

Are  parents  of  its   birtn ; 

Heaven,   tKe  radiant  mother;  Earth,  the  sire 

Whose  unappeased  desire 

Reverberates  and  rings 

Along  its  throbbing  strings. 


In   sounds   more   eloquent  than  any  w^ord 
The  Heavenly  Mother  speaks — in  tender  chords 
And  tones  that  seem  the  echo  from  God  s  lands 
Of  singing  choral  bands. 


The  Spirit  of  Celestial  music  floats 
Great  argosies  of  soft  melodious  notes 
Down  the  high  octaves  to  their  port  and  goal. 
The  human  soul. 


Then   from    some    deep    sea    place,    w^here    dwells   the 

resonant    bass. 
All  suddenly  the  mortal  passions  w^ake 
And   like   w^ind-dnven    billows,   rush   and   break 
Upon  the  heart  and  flood  it  w^ith  an  ocean 
Of  memory  and  emotion. 

Ambitions,    aspirations,   hopes   and   dreams 
Past,   present,   future,    sw^irl  in  these   great  streams 
Of  harmony ;  and  over  and  above 
Sounds  the  clear  call  of  love. 


Into  her  confidence  has  Nature  taken 

The  w^ondrous  harp ;  so  oft  her  strings  are  shaken 

By  voices  of  the   w^ind — 

By  eerie  laughter  of  the  elnn  kind — ■ 

By  ripple  of  the  brooks,  by  fall  of  leaves 

And  by  the  ebbing  tide  that  sighs  and  grieves — 

By  w^hirr  of  w^ings  at  dawn — by  that  sw^eet  w^ord 

Uttered  in  deep  wood  trysts  tw^ixt  bird  and   bird 

At  mating  time — yea  all  that  Nature  feels 

And  knoAvs  and  understands,  the  Harp  reveals. 


39 


TWO  VOICES 


O 


Virtue 
WANTON  one,  O  wicked  one,  liow  was  it  tKat 

you  came, 
Down    from    tKe    patKs  of   purity,  to  walk  the 


streets 


of  sKe 


And  wKerefore  was  tKat  precious   wealth  God   gave    to 

you  in  trust. 
Flung  broadcast  for  tKe  feet  of  men  to  trample  in  tKe 

dust? 

Vice 
O  prudent  one,  O  spotless  one,  now  listen  well  to  me. 
TKe  ways  tKat  led  to  wKere  I  tread  tKese  patKs  of  sin, 

w^ere  tKree ; 
And  God,  and  good  folks,  all  combined  to  make  tKem 

fair  to  see. 

Virtue 

0  wicked  one,  blaspKemous  one,  now  Kow  could  tKat 

tKmg  be? 

Vice 
TKe  first  was  Nature's  lovely  road,  wKereon  my  life  was 
Kurled. 

1  felt  tKe   stirring  in   my   blood,   wKicK   permeates   tKe 

world. 
I   tKrillsd  like   willows   in   tKe   spring,   wKen   sap   begins 

to  flow ; 
It   w^as   young   passion   in   my   veins,    but   Kow   was   1   to 

know? 

TKe  second  was  tKe  silent  road,  \vKere  modest  motKers 

dwell. 
And    Kide   from    eager,    curious    minds,    tKe    trutK    tKey 

ougKt  to  tell. 
TKis  misnamed  road   called   "Innocence      sKould   bear 

tKe  sign  '  To  Hell. 
WitK  song  and  dance  in  ignorance  I  walked  tKat  road 

and  fell. 

Virtue 

0  fallen  one,  unKappy  one,  but  wKy  not  rise  and  go 
Back  to  tKe  ways  you  left  beKind,  and  leave  your  sins 

belo\v ; 
Nor  linger  in  tKis  sink  of  sin,   since  now  you   see,   and 
know? 

Vice 
TKe  tKird  road  was  tKe  fair  KigKway,  trod  by  tKe  good 
and  great. 

1  cried  aloud  to  tKat  vast  crowd,   and  told   my   Kapless 

fate. 


40 


TKey  Kurried  all  througK  door  and  wall  and  sKut  Con- 
vention s   ^ate. 

I  beat  it  witK  my  bleeding  bands;  tbey  must  bave 
beard  me   knock, 

Tbey  must  bave  beard  wild  sob  and  word,  yet  no  one 
turned  tbe  lock. 

Ob,  it  is  very  desolate,  on  Virtue's  patb  to  stand. 
And   see  tbe  good  folks  flocking  by,  witbbolding  look 
and  band. 

And   so  witb  bungry  beart  and   soul,   and  weary  brain 

and  feet, 
I  left  tbat  bigbway  wbence  you  came,  and  sougbt  tbe 

sinful  street.  i   /•  11  1 

O  prudent  one,  O  spotless  one,  wben  good  folks  speak 

of  me.  . 

Go,  tell  tbem  of  tbe  roads  I  came ;  tbe  roadways  fair, 
and  tbree. 


SYMPATHY 

Is  tbe  way  bard  and  tborny,  ob,  my  brotber? 
Do  tempests  beat,  and  adverse  wild  winds  blow? 
And  are  you  spent,  and  broken  at  eacb  nigbtfall. 
Yet  witb  eacb  morn  you  rise  and  onward  go? 

Brotber,   I   know,   I   know! 

I,  too,  bave  journeyed  so. 

Is  your  beart  mad  witb  longing,  ob,  my  sister? 
Are   all  great  passions  in  your  breast  aglow? 
Does  tbe  wbite  wonder  of  your  own  soul  blind  you. 
And  are  you  torn  witb  rapture  and  witb  woe? 

Sister,  I  know,  I  know! 

I,  too,  bave  suffered  so. 

Is  tbe  road   filled  witb   snare   and  quicksand,   pilgrim? 
Do  pitfalls  lie  wbere  roses  seem  to  grow? 
And    bave   you    sometimes   stumbled    in   tbe   darkness. 
And  are  you  bruised  and  scarred  by  many  a  blow? 

Pdgrim,   I   know,  1   know, 

I,   too,   bave   stumbled   so. 

Do  you  send  out  rebellious  cry  and  question. 
As  mocking  bours  pass  silently  and  slow? 
Does   your   insistent   "wberefore"    bring   no   answer, 
Wbile  stars  wax  pale  witb  watcbing,  and  droop  low? 
I,  too,   bave   questioned   so. 
But  now  /   k^ou),    I   know! 
To  toil,  to  strive,  to  err,  to  cry,  to  grow. 
To  love  through  all — tbis  is  tbe  way  to  k^oW. 


41 


0%d  ^uZeQeaCingf  ^xJbtgfcCs 


SUDDENLY  and  witKout  warning  tKey  came 
Tke  Revealing  Angels  came. 
Suddenly  and  simultaneously,  tnrougn  city  streets 
TKrougt  quiet  lanes  and  country  roads  tney  walked 
They  walked  crying:   ""  God  Kas  sent  us. to  rind 
The  vilest  sinners  or  eartn. 
We  are  to  bring  tKem  before  Kim,  terore  tne  Lord  or  Life. 

Tneir  voices  were  like  bugles; 

And  tben  all  war,  all  strife , 

And  all  tbe  noises  of  tbe  -world  grew  still; 

And  no  one  talked: 

And  no  one  toiled,  but  many  strove  to  flee  away. 

Robbers  and  tbieves,  and  those  sunk  in  drunken- 
ness and  crime. 

Men  and  -women  of  evil  repute. 

And  mothers  with  fatherless  children  in  their  arms,  all 
strove  to  hide. 

But  the  Revealing  Angels  passed  them  by. 

Saying:   "  Not  you,  not  you. 

Another  day,  -w^hen  -w^e  shall  come  again 

Unto  the  haunts  of  men. 

Then  -we  -will  call  your  names  ; 

But  God  has  asked  us  first  to  bring  to  him 

Those  guilty  of  greater  shames 

Than  lust,  or  theft,  or  drunkenness,  or  vice 

Yea,  greater  than  murder  done  in  passion. 

Or  self-destruction  done  m  dark  despair. 

Now  in  his  Holy  Name  -we  call: 

Come  one  and  all; 

Come  forth;  reveal  your  faces. 

Then  through  the  a-wful  silence  of  the  Avorld. 
xV here  noise  had  ceased,  they  came 
The  sinful  hosts. 

They  came  from  lovely  and  from  lofty  places. 
Some  poorly  clad,  but  many  clothed  like  queens; 
They  came  from  scenes  of  revel  and  from  toil. 
From  haunts  of  sm,  from  palaces,  from  homes. 
From  boudoirs,  and  from  churches. 
They  came  like  ghosts 
The  vast  brigades  of  women  who  had  slain 
Their  helpless,  unborn  children.     With  them  trailed 
Lovers  and  husbands  -who  had  said,  "  Do  this, ' 
And  those  -who  helped  for  hire. 
They  stood  before  the  Angels  —before  the  Revealing 

Angels  they  stood. 
And  they  heard  the  Angels  say. 
And  all  the  listening  -world  heard  the  Angela  say  : 
"  These  are  the  vilest  sinners  of  all ; 
For  the  Lord  of  Life  made  sex  that  birth  might  come  ; 
Made  sex  and  its  keen,  compelling  desire 
To  fashion  bodies  -wherein  souls  might  go 


42 


-^^v^iv^^^-ivjt^v    ^v---^^^-:;^*> 


From  lower  planes  to  nigher 

Until  tlie  end  is  readied  (wliicK  is  Beginning.) 

TKey  Kave  stolen  tke  costly  pleasures  of  tke  senses 

And  refused  to  pay  God's  price. 

TKey  kave  come  togetker,  tkese  men  and  tkese  women. 

As  male  and  female  tkey  kave  come  togetker 

In  tke  great  creative  act. 

Tkey  kave  invited  souls,   and  tken  flung  tkem  out  into  space: 

Tkey  kave  made  a  jest  of  God  s  design. 

All  otker  sins  look  wkite  teside  tkis  sinning; 

All  otker  sins  may  ke  condoned,  forgiven  ; 

All  otker  sinners  may  ke  cleansed  and  skriven: 

Not  tkese,  not  tkese. 

Pass  on,  and  meet  God  s  eyes. 

Tke  vast  krigade  moved  forward,  and  bekind  tkem  walked  tke  Angels. 

^^alked  tke  sorrowful  Revealing  Angels. 

43 


ARROW  AND  BOW 


IT  IS  easy  to  stand  in  tne  pulpit  or  in  tne  closet  to  kneel 
And  say — "God  do  tKis ;  God  do  that — 
Make   the  world  better;     relieve   tne    sorrows    of 
man  ;   for  the  sake  of  Thy  Son 
On,  forgive  all  sin.         Tnen  having  planned  out  God  s 

w^ork,  to  feel 
Our  duty  is  done. 
It  IS  easy  to  be  religious  this  \vay. 
Easy  to  pray. 

It   IS   narder  to  stand  on   the   Kighvk'ay,  or  w^alk  in  tne 

crow^ded  mart; 
And  say  "I  am  He;  I  am  He; 
Mine    the    w^orld    burden ;     mine   the   sorro^vs  of  men ; 

mine  is  tne  Cnrist  work 
To  forgive  my  brother  s  sin  ;  and  tben  to  live  the  Christ 

part 
And  never  to  shirk. 
It  IS  nard  for  you  and  me 
To  be  religious  tnis  w^ay. 
Day  after  day. 


But  God  is  no  longer  in  Heaven ;  w^e  droveHim  out  with 

our  prayers ; 
Drove  Him  out  w^itn  our  sermons  and  creeds,  and  our 

endless  plaints  and  despairs. 
He  came  dow^n  over  the  borders,  and  Cnrist  too  came 

along; 
They  are  looking  tne  wnole  world  over  to  see  just  vi^Kat 

is  >vrong. 
God  has  grow^n  weary  of  hearing  His  praises  sung  on 

eartn  ; 
And  Jesus  is  w^eary  of  hearing  the  story  about  His  birtn  ; 
And  tne  ^vay  to  win  Their  favor,  that  is  surer  tnan  any 

otner. 
Is  to  join  in  a  song  of  Brotherhood  and  praises  of  one 

another. 
No, God  IS  no  longer  in  Heaven;  He  has  come  doNvn  on 

earth  to  see 
That  nothing  is  wrong  with  the  world  He  made  ;  THE 

WRONG  IS  IN  YOU  AND  ME. 

He  meant  the  earth  for  a  garden  spot,  ^vhere  mill  and 

factory  stand  ; 
Childhood  He  meant  for  grow^ing  time ;  but  look  at  the 

toiling  band  ! 
Woman  w^as  meant  for  mother  and  mate  ;  now  look  at 

the  slaves  of  lust. 
And   the   good   folks   shake    their   heads   and    say      We 

must  pray  to  God  and  trust. 
God  has  a  billion  books  of  our  prayers  unopened  upon 

his  shelves. 
For  the  things  w^e  are  begging  of  Him  to  do.  He  wants 

us  to  do  ourselves. 


44 


JeKovali    Jesus,  and  each  soul  in  space 

Are  one,    and   undividatle.   Until 

We  see  God  sKinin^  in  eacK  neigKtor  s  face 

And  find  Him  in  ourselves  and  Kail  Him  there. 

Let  us  be  still. 

WKat  use  is  prayer? 

How  can  we  love  tKe  wKole,  and  not  eacn  part? 

How  worship  God,  and  harbor  in  the  heart 

Hate  oi  God's  members?  (for  all  men  are  that.) 

Too  long  our  souls  have  sat. 

Like  poor  blind  beggars  at  the  door  of  God 

He  never  made  a  beggar — We  are  kings ! 

Let  us  rise  up,  for  it  is  time  we  trod 

The  mountain  tops ;  time  that  we  did  the  things 

We  have  so  long  asked  God  to  do. 

He  waits  for  you 

To  look  deep  in  your  brother's  eyes  and  see 

The  God  within; 

To  hear  you  say  "Lo,  thou  art,  thou  art  He. 

This  is  the  only  way  to  end  all  sin. 

The  difficult,  one  way. 


A  prayer  without  a  deed  is  an  arrow  without  a  bow-string ; 
A  deed  without  a  prayer  is  a  how-string  without  an  arrow. 
The  heart  of  a  man  should  be  like  a  quiver  full  of  arrows. 
And  the  hand  of  a  man  should  be  like  a  strong  bow  strung  for 

action. 
The  heart  of  a  man  should  keep  his  arrows  ever  ascending. 
And  the  hand  and  the  mind  of  a  man  should  keep  at  a  work 

unending. 


IT  MATTERS  ONLY 

Carthage  has  gone,  and  Nineveh  and  Tyre! 

Yea,  thrice  has  Carthage  in  the  dust  been  laid. 

Of  other,  older,  cities.  Time  has  made 

Dry  kindling,  for  Ambition's  funeral  pyre. 

This  is  the  certain  end  of  all  desire. 

Our  work  must  perish  and  our  dreams  must  fade; 

Yet  do  I  wake,  each  morning,  undismayed. 

To  dream  new  dreams,  to  labor,  and  aspire. 

It  does  not  matter  that  my  name  must  die. 
My  structures  fall  and  nothing  leave  behind. 
My  best  achievements  pass  away  forever; 
It  matters  only  that  immortal  I 
Feel  God  is  in  my  heart  and  soul  and  mind. 
Urging  me  on  and  on  to  new  endeavor. 


45 


"Jatfii 


eran 


dSo 


n 


MY  grana-aame,  vigorous  at  eignty-onc, 
Delignts  in  talking  or  ner  only  son, 
^y  gallant  rattier,  long  since  aead  and  gone. 
**  Ak,  tut  lie  was  tne  laa ! 
She  says,  and  signs,  ana  looks  at  me  askance. 
How  -well  I  read  tne  meaning  or  tnat  glance — 
*'  Poor  son  or  sucn  a  dad; 
Poor  weakling,  dull  and  sad. 
I  could,  but  would  not,  tell  ner  bitter  trutn 
About  my  fathers  youtn. 

SKe  says:  "Your  ratber  laugbed  bis  way  tnrougb  eartb: 
He  laugbed  rigbt  m  tbe  doctor  s  race  at  birtb — 
Sucb  ]oy  or  lire  be  bad,  sucb  founts  of  nurtb. 

Ab,  wbat  a  lad  -was  be! 
And  tben  sbe  sigbs.     I  feel  ber  silent  blame. 
Because  I  brougbt  ber  notbmg  but  bu  name* 


46 


Because  she  ooes  not  see 

Her  •worsnipca  son  m  me. 
I  could,  out  'would  not.  speak  m  my  aerense 
A.nent  tne  aitierence. 

She  says:  *'  He  won  all  prizes  m  nis  time. 
He  over'workea,  and  aiea  betore  nis  prime. 
At  hign  amoition  s  door,  I  lay  tne  crime. 

AK,  -wliat  a  laa  he  -was!  ' 
Well,  let  ner  rest  in  that  aeceiving  tnougkt. 
Or  wnat  avail  to  say,  "  His  deatn  was  brought 

By  broken  sexual  la-ws, 

Xne  ancient  siniul  cause. 
I  could,  out  "woula  not,  tell  tne  good  old  dame 
Xne  story  oi  nis  sname. 

I  could  say :   "  I  am  crippled,  weak,  and  pale, 
Because  my  ratner  -svas  an  unleasned  male. 

Because  ne  ran  so  fast,  I  halt  and  rail. 

(An,  yes,  ne  -was  tne  lad!) 
Because  ne  drained  eacn  cup  or  sense-deligKt 
I  must  go  tKirsting,  thirsting,  day  and  night. 

Because  he  was  joy-mad, 

I  must  he  alw^ays  sad. 
Because  he  learned  no  law  or  5elr-control, 
I  am  a  hlighted  soul.' 

Or  what  avail  to  speak  and  spoil  her  jgy. 
Better  to  see  her  disapproving  eyes. 
And,  silent,  hear  her  say,  between  her  sighs, 

"Ah,  hut  he  was  the  hoy! 


m 


w^^ 


47 


EUROPE 


L 


ITTLE  lads  and  grandsires. 
Women  old  with  care  ; 
But  all  men  are  dyin^  men 
Or  dead  men  over  tKere. 


No  one  stops  to  dig  graves  ; 
WKo   lias   time   to   spare? 
TKe  dead  men,  tne  dead  men 
How  tKe  dead  men  stare! 

Kings   are   out   a-Kunting — 
OK,    tKe   sport  IS   rare ; 
WitK   dying   men   and   dead   men 
Falling  everyw^Kere. 

Life  Tor  lads  and  grandsires ; 
Spoils  for   kings  to  sKare ; 
And   dead   men,   dead   men 
Dead  men  everywKere. 


THE  SUITORS 

TKere  is  a  little  Bungalow, 

PercKed  on  a  granite  ledge. 

And   at  its  feet  two  suitors  meet ; 

(I  watcK  tKem,  and  I  know) 

One  w^aits  outside  tKe  casement  edge; 

One  paces  to  and  fro. 

TKe  Patient  Rock  speaks  not  a  word ; 

TKe  Sea  goes  up  and  down. 

And  sings  full  oft,  in  cadence  soft; 

(I   listen,    and    Kave    Keard) 

Again  Ke  w^ears  an  angry  frow^n 

By  jealous  passion  stirred. 

TKis  daw^n,  tKe  Rock  was  all  aglow; 
Far  out  tKe  mad  Sea  w^ent. 
Beyond  tKe  raft,  like  one  gone  daft; 
(I   saw^  tKem,    and   I   know^) 
WKile  radiant  and  w^ell  content 
Smiled    dow^n    tKe    Bungalow^. 

TKat  was   at  Dawn ;  ere  day  Kad   set, 

TKe   Sea   witK   pleading   voice 

Came  back  to  woo  Kis  love  anew; 

(I  saw  tKem  wKen  tKey  met) 

And  now  I  kno>v  not  wKicK  Ker  cKoice- 

(TKe  Rock's   gray  face  was  wet.) 


fe^' 


48 


OCCUPATION 


THERE  must  in  Heaven  be  many  industries 
And  occupations,  varieJ,  infinite. 
Or  Heaven  coula  not  be   Heaven.      Wnat   gra- 
cious tasks 
TKe  Mighty  Maker  of  the  Universe 
Can  offer  souls,  that  have  prepared  on  earth 
By  holding  lovely  thoughts  and  fair  desires ! 


4 


Art  thou  a  poet  to  ^vhom  w^ords  come  not! 
A  dumb  composer  of  unuttered  sounds. 
Ignored  by  fame  and  to  the  w^orld  unknow^n? 
Thine  may  be,  then,  the  mission  to  create 
Immortal  lyrics   and  immortal  strains. 
For  stars  to  chant  together  as  they  swing 
About  the  holy  centre  ^vhere  God  dwells. 


Hast  thou  the  artist  instinct  w^ith  no  skill 

To  give  it  form  or  color?      Unto  thee 

It  may  be  given  to  paint  upon  the  skies 

Astounding  daw^ns  and   sunsets,   framed   by  seas 

And  mountains  ;  or  to  fashion  and  adorn 

New  faces  for  sw^eet  pansies  and  new^  dyes 

To   tint  their   velvet   garments.      Oftentimes 

Methinks  behind  a  beauteous  flower  I  see 

Or  in  the  tender  glory  of  a  daw^n. 

The  presence  of  some  spirit  -who  has  gone 

Into  the  Place  of  Mystery,  whose  call 

Imperious  and  compelling,  sounds  for  all 

Or  soon  or  late.      So  many  have  passed  on — 

So  many  with  ambitions,  hopes  and  aims 

Unrealized,   who   could  not  be  content 

As  idle  Angels,  even  in  paradise. 

The  unknown  Michael  Angelos,  w^ho  lived 

With  thoughts  on  beauty  bent    w^hile  chained  to  toil 

That  gave  them  only  bread  and  burial — 

These  must  find  w^aiting  in  the  World  of  Space 

The  shining  timbers  of  their  splendid  dreams 

Ready  for  shaping  Temples,  Shrines  and  Tow^ers 

Where  radiant  hosts  may  congregate  to  raise 

Their  glad   hosannas  to  the  God  Supreme. 

And  w^ill  there  not  be  gardens  glorious 

And   Mansions  all   embosomed   among   blooms. 

Where  heavenly  children  reach  out  loving  arms 

To  lonely  women  •who  have  been  denied 

On  earth,  the  longed  for  boon  of  Motherhood? 


Surely  God  has  provided  w^ork  to  do 

For  souls  like  these,  and  for  the  w^eary,  rest 


49 


OH,  POOR  SICK  WORLD 


LORD  of  all  the  Universe,  when  I  think  oj  YO  U, 
Flinging  stars  out  into  space,  moving  suns  and  tides; 
Then  this  little  mortal  mind,  gets  the  larger  view; 
And  the  carping  self  of  me,  runs  away  and  hides. 

Then  I  see  all  shadowed  paths,  leading  out  to  Light; 
See  the  false  things  fade  away,  leaving  but  the  True; 
See  the  wrong  things  slay  themselves,  leaving  only  Right; 
When  this  little  mortal  mind,  gets  the  larger  view. 

Cavillings  at  this  and  that,  censure,  doubt  and  fear. 
Fly,  as  fly  before  the  dawn,  insects  of  the  night; 
Life  and  Death  are  understood;  everything  seems  clear. 
All  the  wrong  things  slay  themselves,  leaving  only  Right. 


TKe  World  has  walked  witli  lever  in  its  veins 

For  many  and  many  a  day.      On,  poor  sick  World! 

Not  knowing  all  its  dreams  of  greed  and  gain 

Oi  semsh  conquest  and  possession,  w^ere 

Disordered  visions  of  a  brain  diseased. 

Now  tlie  World's  malady  is  at  its  neignt 

And  there  is  foul  contagion  in  its  breath. 

It  raves  of  death  and  slaughter ;  and  the  stars 

Shake  w^ith  reverberations  of  its  cries. 

And  the  sad  seas  are  troubled  and  dismerged. 

So  must  it  rave — this  sick  and  suffering  world — 

Until  the  old  secretions  in  its  blood 

Are  emptied  out  and  purged  away  by  w^ar ; 

And  the  deep  seated  cankers  of  the  mind 

Begin  the  healing  process.      Then  a  calm 

Shall  come  upon  the  earth  ;  and  that  loved  w^ord 

PEACE,   shall   be  understood  from  shore   to   shore. 

Shriek  on,  mad  World.      The  Great  Physician  sits 
Serenely  conscious  of  the  coming  change. 
Nor  seeks  to  check  the  fever;  it  must  run 
Until  its  course  is  finished.      He  can  wait. 

He  feels  but  pity  for  His  ailing  charge — 
Not  blame  or  anger.      And  He  knows  the  hour 
Will   surely   dawn  w^hen   that   sick   child    shall   ^vake 
Free  from  all  frenzied  fancies,  and  shall  turn 
Clear-seeing  eyes  upon  the  face  of  Ood. 

In  His  vast  Solar  Systems  He  has  seen 
So   many   other   Worlds   delirious. 


Lord  of  all  the  Universe  when  I  think  of  YO  U, 

Then  this  little  mortal  mind  gets  the  larger  view. 

Then  I  see  all  shadowed  paths  leading  into  Light, 

Where  the  wrong  things  slay  themselves,  leaving  only  Right. 


Oh,  poor  sick  World  ! 


50 


I  WONDER 


I  READ  tKe  morning  news 
Here  in  tKis  cosy  spot. 
And  life  seems  a  thing  most  sweet. 
I  wonder  w^oula  1  meet 
TKe  coming  day  with  as  glad  a  thought 

Had  I  toiled  all  night  till  the  break  o(  dawn 
That  the  world  might  know  what  is  gomg  on. 

I  read,  and  rest,  and  dream 

Beside  the  glowmg  grate. 
And  life  seems  warm  and  good. 

I  wonder  if  it  would 
Had  it  happened  that  mine  were  the  fate 

To  dig  like  a  worm  in  the  deep  dark  mold 
That  the  world  above  me  might  keep  off  cold. 

Out  on  the  deck  I  sit 

While  the  ship  speeds  on  apace ; 
Oh,  life  IS  a  joy  at  sea. 
I  wonder  w^ould  it  be 
Had  it  happened  that  mine  were  the  place 

Down  in  the  hot,  close  hold  of  the  boat 
To  stoke  the  engine  and  keep  it  afloat. 

On  the  flying  train  I  speed 

Off  for  a  holiday ; 
And  life  is  a  lazy  dream. 

I  w^onder  how  it  w^ould  seem 
If  I  sat  while  the  dark  night  paled  to  gray 

Watching  the  signals  with  eyes  astrain 
And  my  whole  thought  bent  on  guiding  the  train. 

Guardian  angels  who  fill  sky  spaces. 

Unseen  Helpers  and  Spirit  Friends, 
Bless  all  the  toilers  in  humble  places 

On  whom  the  comfort  of  earth  depends. 
And  waken  the  heart  of  the  world  till  it  heed 

Their  cry  of  need. 

THE  WINDS  OF  FATE 

One  ship  drives  east  and  another  drives  west 
With  the  self-same  winds  that  blow; 

'Tis  the  set  of  the  sails 

And  not  the  gales 
That  tells  them  the  way  to  go. 

Like  the  winds  of  the  sea  are  the  winds  of  fate 
As  we  voyage  along  through  life; 
Tis  the  set  of  the  soul 
That  decides  its  goal 
And  not  the  calm  or  the  strife. 


51 


A 


mertca 


AM    tKe    refuge     of     all    tKe 
oppressed, 

I  am  tne  boast  oi  tKe  free, 

I  am  the  naroor  where  ships 
may  rest 

Safely    twixt  sea  and  sea. 
I  hold  up  a  torch  to  a  darkened  \vorld, 
I  lighten  the  path  w^ith  its  ray. 
Let  my  hand  keep  steady 
And  let  me  oe  ready 
For  Avhatever  comes  my  way — 
Let  me  be  ready. 


Oh,  better  than  fortresses,  better  than 
guns. 

Better  than  lance  or  spear. 

Are  the  loyal  hearts  of  my  daughters  and 
sons. 

Faithful  and  without  fear. 

But  my  daughters  and  sons  must  under- 
stand 

That  Attila  did  not  die. 

And  they  must  be  ready. 

Their  hands  must  be  steady. 

If  the  hosts  of  hell  come  nigh — 

They  must  be  ready. 


If  Jesus  were  back  on  the  earth  w^ith  men. 

He  would  not  preach  today 

Until  He   had   made  him  a   scourge,    and 

again 
He  \vould  drive  the  defilers  away. 
He  w^ould  throw  down  the  tables  of  lust 

and  greed 
And  scatter  the  changers' gold. 
He  would  be  ready. 
His  hand  w^ould  be  steady. 
As  it  was  in  that  temple  of  old — 
He  would  be  ready. 


I  am  the  cradle  of  God  s  new  world. 
From  me  shall  the  new^  race  rise. 
And     my     glorious     banner     must 

unfurled. 
Unsullied  against  the  skies. 
My    sons    and    daughters    must     be 

strength. 
With  courage  to  do  and  to  dare. 
With  hearts  that  are  ready. 
With  hands  that  are  steady. 
And  their  slogan  must  be.  Prepare! — 
They  must  be  ready! 


float 


my 


With  a  prayer  on  the  lip  they 

must  shoulder  arms. 

For  after  all  has  been  said. 

We  must  muster  guns. 

If  w^e  master  Huns — 

And  Attila  is  not  dead — 

We  must  be  ready! 


52 


53 


SONGS  OF  LOVE  AND  THE  SEA 


$ 


I 

WHEN  first  we  met  (tKe  Sea  and  I), 
Like  one   before   a  King 
I  stood  in  awe ;  nor  felt  nor  saw 
TKe  sun,  tKe  winds,  tKe  eartK,  the  sky 
Or   any   otKer  tKing. 

God's  Universe  to  me. 
Was  just  tKe  Sea. 

WKen  next  we  met,  tKe  lordly  Main 

Played  but  a  courtier  s  part ; 

Crowned  Queen  was  I ;  and  eartK  and  sky. 

And  sun  and  sea  were  my  domain. 

Since  love  was  in  my  Keart. 

Before,    beyond,    above. 

Was  only  Love. 

II 
Love  built  me  on  a  little  rock, 
A  little  Kouse  of  pine ; 
At  first,   tKe   Sea 
Beat  angrily 
About  tKat  Kouse  of  mine; 
(TKat  dear,  dear  Kome  of  mine). 

But  wKen  it  turned  to  go  away 
Beyond  tKe  sandy  track, 
Down  o'er  its  wall 
TKe  Kouse  would  call. 
Until  tKe  Sea  came  back  ; 
(It  always  Kurried  back). 

And  now  tKe  two  Kave  grown  so  fond, 
(OK,  breatKe  no  word  of  tKis), 

WKen  clouds  Kang  low. 

And   east  winds    blow, 
TKey  meet   and    kiss   and   kiss; 
(At  nigKt,  I  Kear  tKem  kiss). 

Ill 
No  man  can  understand  tKe  Sea  until 
He  knows  all  passions  of  tKe  senses,  all 
TKe  great  emotions  of  tKe  Keart,  and  eacK 

Exalted  aspiration  of  tKe  soul. 
TKen  may  Ke  sit  beside  tKe  sea  and  say: 
"I,  too,  Kave  flung  myself  against  tKe  rocks. 
And  kissed  tKeir  flinty  brows  witK  no  return. 

And  fallen  spent  upon  unfeeling  sands. 
I,  too,  Kave  gone  fortK  yearning,  to  far  sKores, 
Seeking   tKat   sometKing   wKicK    would    bring    content. 

And  finding  only  wKat  I  took  away ; 
And  I  Kave  looked  up  tKrougK  tKe  veil  of  skies 
WKen  all  tKe  world  was  still,  and  understood 
TKat  I  am  one  with  Nature  and  witK  God." 


54 


IV 

Tne  Da\vn  -was  nyingf  from  tKe  NigKt ; 

Sw^iit  as  tne  wind  sne  sped ; 
Her  hair  was  like  a  fleece  of  ligKt; 

Her  cheeks  w^ere  >varni  and  red. 

All  passion  pale,  the  Ni^ht  pursued ; 

Dne   ned    away,    away ; 
And  in  ner  garments,  rainbow^  nued. 

She   gained  tKe  peak  of  day. 


And  tnen,   all  snaken  with   alarms, 
Sne  leaped  dow^n  from  its  crest 

Into  the  Sea  s  uplifted  arms. 

And  swooned  upon  nis  treast. 


THE  HEIGHTS 


I  cried.     Dear  Angel,  lead  me  to  tne  heights. 

And  spur  me  to  the  top. 

Tne  Angel  answered.     Stop 

And  set  thy  house  in  order;  make  it  fair 

For  absent  ones  w^ho  may  be  speeding  there; 

Then  will  we  talk  of  heights. 

I  put  my  house  in  order  Now  lead  on ! 

The  Angel  said,   "Not  yet; 

Thy  garden  is  beset 

By  thorns  and  tares ;  go  weed  it,  so  all  those 

Who  come  to  gaze  may  find  the  unvexed  rose ; 

Then  will  we  journey  on. 

I  weeded  well  my  garden.        All  is  done. 
The  Angel   shook  his   head. 
'A  beggar  stands,     he  said 

"Outside  thy  gates;  till  thou  hast  given  heed 
And  soothed  his  sorrow^,  and  supplied  his  need. 
Say  not  that  all  is  done. 

The  beggar  left  me  singing.        Now  at  last — 
At  last  the  path  is  clear. 
'Nay,  there  is  one  draws  near 
Who  seeks,  like  thee,  the  dimcult  highw^ay. 
He  lacks  thy  courage;  cheer  him  through  the  day; 
Then  will  we  cry,   'At  last. 

I   helped   my  w^eaker   brother.        Now^   the    heights ; 

Oh,  guide   me.  Angel,  guide ! 

The   Presence   at  my  side. 

With  radiant  face,  said,  "Look    w^here  are  w^e  now^?' 

And  lo !  w^e  stood  upon  the  mountain  s  brow — 

The  heights,  the  ehining  heights! 


55 


r 


m&^^m^mi 


s 


'AD  man,  sad  man,  tell  me,  pray, 
What  did  you  see  to-day  ? 


I    saw   the    unloved   and    unhappy   old   waiting   for    slow,   delinquent 

death   to   come; 
Pale  little  children  toiling  for  the  rich,  in  rooms  where  sunlight  is 

ashamed  to  go ; 
The    awful    almshouse,    where    the   living   dead    rot    slowly    in    their 

hideous,  open  graves. 
And  there  were  shameful  things: 
Soldiers    and    forts,    and    industries    of   death,    and    devil-ships,    and 

loud-winged    devil-hirds. 
All  bent  on  slaughter  and  destruction.      These  and  yet  more  shame- 
ful things  mine  eyes  teheld : 
Old  men  upon  lascivious  conquest  bent,  and  young  men  living  with 

no   thought   of   God. 
And   half-clothed   women   puffing  at  a   weed,   aping   the   vices  of  the 

under^vorld, 
Engrossed   in   shallow   pleasures,   and   intent  on   being   barren  wives. 
These  things  I  saw. 
(Ho^v  God  must  loathe  his  earth!) 


56 


Glad  man,  glad  man,  tell  me,  pray. 
What  did  you  sec  to-day? 

I  saw  an  aged  couple  in  vvKose  eyes 

SKone  tKat  deep  ligKt  of  mingled  love  and  {aitK 
WKicK  makes  the  eartK  one  room  of  paradise 

And  leaves  no  sting  in  death. 

I  saw  vast  regiments  of  children  pour. 

Rank  after  rank,  out  of  the  schoolroom  door. 

By  Progress  mobilized.     They  seemed  to  say: 

"Let  ignorance  make  way. 

We  are  the  heralds  of  a  better  day. 

I  saw  the  college  and  the  church  that  stood 
For  all  things  sane  and  good. 
I  saw  God  s  helpers  in  the  shop  and  slum 
Blazing  a  path  for  health  and  hope  to  come. 
And  True  Religion,  from  the  grave  of  creeds. 
Springing  tomeet  man  s  needs. 

I  saw  great  Science  reverently  stand 
And  listen  for  a  sound  from  Border-land, 
No  longer  arrogant  with  unbelief. 
Holding  itself  aloof. 
But  drawing  near  and  searching  high  and  low 

For  that  complete  and  all  convincing  proof 
Which  shall  permit  its  voice  to  comfort  grief. 
Saying,  "We  know. 

I  saw  fair  women  in  their  radiance  rise 

And  trample  old  traditions  in  the  dust. 

Looking  in  their  clear  eyes. 

I  seemed  to  hear  these  words  as  from  the  skies, 

"He  who  would  father  our  sweet  childrea  must 
Be  worthy  of  the  trust. 

Against  the  rosy  dawn,  I  saw  unfurled 
The  banner  of  the  race  we  usher  in 

The  supermen  and  -women  of  the  world. 

Who  make  no  code  of  sex  to  cover  sin. 

Before  they  till  the  soil  of  parenthood. 

They  look  to  it  that  seed  and  soil  are  good. 

And  I  saw,  too,  that  old.  old  sight,  and  best 
Pure  mothers  with  dear  babies  at  the  breast. 
These  things  I  saw. 
(How  God  must  love  his  earth!) 


WE  MUST  SEND  THEM 
OUT  TO  PLAY 


NOW  mucK  tKere  is  need  of  doing  must  not  be 
done  in  Kaste ; 
But  slowly  and  witK  patience,  as  a  jungle  is 
changed  to  a  town. 
But   listen,    my    trotKers,    listen ;   it   is    not   always    so : 
WKen  a  murderer's   Kand  is  lifted  to  kill,  tKere  is  no 

time  to  w^aste  ; 
And   the   way  to   change   his   purpose   is   first  to    knock 

him  dow^n 
And  teach  him  the  law  of  kindness  after  you  give  him 
the  blow^. 

The  acorn  you  plant  in  the  morning  will  not  give  shade 

at  noon ; 
And  the  thornless  cactus  must  be  bred  by  year  on  year 

of  toil. 
But  listen,  my  brothers,  listen ;  it  is  not  ever  the  way. 
For  the  roots  of  the   poison  ivy  plant  you  cannot  pull 

too  soon ; 
If  you  would  better  your  garden  and  make  the  most  of 

your  soil. 
Hurry   and   dig   up   the   evil  things   and   cast  them   out 

today. 

The  ancient  sin  of  the  nations  no  law  can  ever  efface ; 
We  must  wait  for  the  mothers  of  men  to  grow,  and  give 

clean   souls   to   their   sons. 
But  listen,  my  brothers,  listen ;  when  a  child  cries    out 

in    pain. 
We  must  rise  from  the  banquet  board  and  go,  though 

the  host  is  saying  grace  ; 
We   must   rise    and   find   the   Herod   of   Greed,    who   is 

killing  our  little  ones. 
Nor  ever  go  back  to  the  banquet  until  the  monster  is 

slain. 


The  strong  man  waits  for  justice,  with  lifted  soul  and 

eyes. 
As  a  sturdy  oak  will  face  the  storm  and  does  not  break 

or  bow. 
But  listen,  my  brothers,  listen ;  the  child  is  a  child  for  a 

day ; 
If  a  merciless  foot  treads  down  each  shoot,  how  can 

the  forest  rise? 
We  are  robbing  the  race  w^hen  w^e  rob  a  child  ;  w^e  must 

rescue  the  children  NOW ; 
We   must  rescue  the   little   slaves  of  Greed   and   send 

them  out  to  play. 


58 


RECRIMINATION 


SAID  Life  to  DeatK,  "MetKinks  if  I  were  you, 
I  would  not  carry  sucK  an  awesome  face 
To  terrify  tKe  helpless  Kuman  race. 
And,  if,  indeea,  tnose  w^ondrous  tales  te  true 
Of  happiness  beyond,  and  if  I  knew 
About  the  boasted   blessings  of  that  place, 
I  w^ould  not  hide  so  miserly  all  trace 
Of  my  vast  know^ledge.  Death,  if  I  w^ere  you ; 
But  like  a  glorious  angel  I  would  lean 
Above  the  pathway  of  each  sorrowing  soul, 
Hope  in  my  eyes,  and  comfort  m  my  breath. 
And  strong  conviction  in  my  radiant  mien. 
The  w^hile  I  w^hispered  of  that  beauteous  goal; 
This  would  do,  if  I  were  you,  O  Death !" 


II 

Said  Death  to  Life,  "If  I  were  you,  my  friend, 

I  w^ould  not  lure  confiding  souls  each  day 

With  fair  false  smiles,  to  enter  on  a  w^ay 

So  filled  w^ith  pain  and  trouble  to  the  end. 

I  w^ould  not  tempt  those  w^hom  I  should  defend. 

Nor  stand  unmoved  and  see  them  go  astray. 

Nor  w^ould  I  force  unw^illing  souls  to  stay 

Who  longed  for  freedom,  w^ere  I  you,  my  friend. 

But  like  a  tender  mother  I  >vould  take 

The  Aveary  w^orld  upon  my  sheltering  breast 

And  w^ipe  away  its  tears,  and  soothe  its  strife. 

I  would  fulfill  my  promises,  and  make 

My  children  bless  me  as  they  sank  to  rest 

Where  now^  they  curse — if  I  w^ere  you,  O  Life !" 


Ill 

Life  made  no  answ^er ;  and  Death  spoke  again : 
T  w^ould  not  w^oo  from  God  s  s^veet  nothingness 
A  soul  to  being,  if  I  could  not  bless 
And  crow^n  it  >vith  all  joy.      If  unto  men 
My  face  seems  aw^esome,  tell  me.  Life,  w^hy  then 
Do  they  pursue  me,  mad  for  my  caress. 
Believing  m  my  silence  lies  redress 

For   your   loud    falsehoods?    (So    Death    spoke    again.) 
Oh,  it  IS  u'ell  for  you  I  am  not  fair. 
Well  that  I  hide  behind  a  voiceless  tomb 
The  mighty  secrets  of  that  other  place ; 
Else  w^ould  you  stand  m  impotent  despair 
While    unfledged    souls    straight    from    the    mother's 

w^omb 
Rushed  to  my  arms,  and  spat  upon  your  face.' 


59 


CHRIST  CRUCIFIED 


NOW  ere  I   slept,    my  prayer   had    been   tnat   I 
migKt  see  my  way 
To  do  tne  will  of  Cnrist,  our  Lord  and  Master, 
day  by  day ; 
And  w^itK  this  prayer  upon  my  lips,  I  knew^  not  tnat  I 

dreamed. 
But     suddenly     tne     w^orld     of    nignt  a   pandemonium 

seemed. 
From    forest,    and    from    slaughter    house,    from    bull 

ring,  and  from  stall. 
There  rose  an  anguished  cry  of  pain,  a  loud,  appealing 

call; 
As  man— the  dumb  beast  s  next  of  kin — w^ith  gun,  and 

w^hip,  and  knife. 
Went  pleasure-seeking  through  the  earth,  blood-bent 

on  taking  life. 
From  trap,  and  cage,  and  house,  and  zoo,  and  street, 

that  awful  strain 
Of  tortured  creatures  rose  and  s^velled  the  orchestra 

of  pain. 
And    then    methought    the    gentle    Christ    appeared    to 

me,  and  spoke : 
"I  called  ye,  but  ye  answ^ered  not   — and  in  my  fear  I 

woke. 

The  next  I  heard  the  roar  of  mills ;  and  moving  through 

the  noise. 
Like  phantoms  in  an  underworld,  w^ere  little  girls  and 

boys. 
Their  backs  w^ere   bent,   their  bro^vs  w^ere   pale,   their 

eyes  were  sad  and  old. 
But,  by  the  labor  of  their   hands   greed  added  gold   to 

gold. 
Again  the  Presence  and  the  Voice :     Behold  the  crimes 

I  see. 
As  ye  have  done  it  unto  these,  so  have  ye  done  to  me." 

Again  I   slept.      I   seemed   to   climb   a   hard   ascending 

track ; 
And  just  behind  me  labored   one   w^hose    patient   face 

w^as  black. 
I    pitied    him ;   but   hour   by   hour   he    gained    upon   the 

path  ; 
He  stood  beside  me,  stood  upright — and  then  I  turned 

m  wrath. 
Go   back !      I   cried.         What  right   have   you   to  ^valk 

beside  me  here? 
For  you  are  black,  and  I  am  w^hite.         I  paused,  struck 

dumb  ^vlth  fear. 


60 


For  lo !  the  black  man  was  not  there,  but  Cnrist  stood 

m  his  place ; 
And  on !  tne  pain,  tne  pain,  the  pain  tnat  looked  from 

that  dear  face. 


Now^  >vhen  I  woke,  tne  air  w^as  rife  w^ith  tnat  sw^eet, 

rhythmic  din 
Wbicb   tells  tne  w^orld   tnat  Cnrist   bas   come   to   save 

mankind  from  sm. 
And  through  the  open  door  of  churcb  and  temple  passed 

a  throng 
To  w^orship  Him  w^itb  bended  knee,  w^itb  sermon  and 

w^itb  song. 
But  over  all  I  beard  tbe  cry  of  bunted,  mangled  tbings  ; 
Tbose  creatures  w^bicb  are  part  of  God,  tbougb  tbey 

bave  boots  and  w^mgs. 
I  saw^  in  mill,  and  mine,  and  sbop,  tbe  little  slaves  of 

greed  ; 
I  beard  tbe  strife  of  race  witb  race,  all  sprung  from  one 

God-seed. 
And  tben  I  bow^ed  my  bead  in  sbame,  and  in  contrition 

cried — 
"Lo,  after  nineteen  bundred  years  Cbrist  still  is  Cruci- 

fied." 


*^  PROTEST' 

To  sit  in  silence  wben  ^ve  sbould  protest 

Makes  cow^ards  of  men.      Tbe  buman  race 

Has   climbed   on   protest.      Had   no   voice   been  raised 

Against  injustice,  ignorance,  and  lust, 

Tbe  Inquisition  yet  w^ould  serve  tbe  law^ 

And   guillotines   decide   our  least  disputes. 

Tbe  fe^v  w^bo  dare  must  speak    and  speak  again. 

To  rigbt  tbe  wrongs  of  many.      Speall!     Tbank  God, 

No  vested  pow^er  in  tbis  great  day  and  land 

Can  gag  and  throttle ;  press  and  voice  may  cry 

Loud  disapproval  of  existing  ills. 

May  criticise  oppression,  and^  condemn 

The  law^Iessness  of  wealtb-protecting  laws 

Tbat  let  tbe  cbildren  and  cbild  bearers  toil 

To  purchase  ease  for  idle  millionaires. 

Tberefore  do  I  protest  against  tbe  boast 

Of  independence  in   tbis   migbty  land. 

Call  no  cbam  strong  w^bicb  bolds  one  rusted  link; 

Call  no  land  free  tbat  bolds  one  fettered  slave ; 

Until  tbe  manacled,  slim  w^rists  of  babes 

Are  loosed  to  toss  in  cbildisb  sport  and  glee  ; 

Until  tbe  Motber  bears  no  burden  save 

The  precious  one  beneatb  ber  beart ;  until 

God  s  soil  is  rescued  from  tbe  clutcb  of  greed 

And  given  back  to  Labor;  let  no  man 

Call  tbis  tbe  land  of  Freedom. 


61 


Tl^cuetyin  fkeSfatioffM^use 


LAST  nigKt  I  walked  along  the  city  street 
-    And  smiled  at  men;    tkey  saw  tiie  ancient  sm 
In  my  young  eyes,  and  one  said.    Come  witn  me. 
I  went  witK  Kim,   believing  my  poor  purse 
Would  fatten  witK   Kis   gold.      He   brought  me  here 
And  turned  the  key  upon  me.     In  an  nour, 
I  shall  be  called  before  the  judge  and  fined. 
Because  I  have   solicited.      How^  strange 
And  inexplicable  a  thing  is  law — 
How  curious  its  w^hys,  and  why-nots !     I 
Was  young  and  innocent  of  evil  thought 
A  few  brief  years  ago.      My  brother's  friend, 
A  social  favorite  to  w^hom  all  doors 
Were  open  (and  a  church  communicant). 
Sought    me,    soliciting    my   faith    and   trust,   - 
And  brushed  the  dew^  of  virtue  from  my  lips ; 
Then  left  me  to  my  solitary  thoughts. 
Death  and  misfortune  entered  on  the  scene; 
I  \vas  thrown  out  to  battle  with  the  ^vorld, 
And  hide  the  anguish  of  a  maid  deflowered. 

I  left  my  first  employer, — left  because 

He,   too,   solicited  those  favors  that 

No  contract  mentions,   but  which  seem  to  be 

Expected    duties    by    unwritten    law 

In  many  business-houses.     Soon  I  learned 

That   virtue   is,   indeed,    its   own   reward. 

And  often  finds  no  other.     My  poor  wage 

For   honest  labor  and   a   decent  life 

Scarce  kept  me  fed   and   sheltered.     Everywhere 

In  ornce,   boarding-house,  and   m  church   aisles 

I  met  the  eyes  of  men  soliciting. 

They   sup-plemented   pleading  looks  by  w^ords. 

And   laughed   at   all   my   scruples.      Finally, 

1  he  one  compelling  lover  had  his  way. 

And  when  he  w^earied  of  me  I  began 

The  dreary  treadmill  of  the  city  streets. 

Soliciting  whoever  crossed  my  path 

To  take  my  favors  and  to  give  me  gold. 

Somehow,  I  cannot  seem  to  understand 

Why  there  is  law  to  punish  me  for  that. 

And  none  to  punish  any  o<f  the  men 

Who  have  pursued   me  with  soliciting 

Right  from  the  threshold  of  my  childhood's  home 

lo   this   grim   station-house. 

My  case  is   called? 
Well,  lead  the  way,  and  I  will  follow  you. 


T '">  sn/O) 


63 


PAIN'S  PURPOSE 


HOW  tlind  IS  he  wno  prays  that  God  will  send 
All   pain   from    eartn.         Pain   has   its   use    and 
place ; 
Its  ministry  of  holiness  and  grace. 
TKe  darker  tones  upon  the  canvas  blend 
With  light  and  color;  and  their  shadows  lend 
The  painting  half  its  dignity.      Enace 
The  sombre  background,  and  you  lose  all  trace 
Of  that  perfection  which  is  true  art  s  trend. 

Life  IS  an  artist  seeking  to  reveal 

God  s  majesty  and  beauty  in  each  soul. 

If  from  the  palette  mortal  man  could  steal 

The  precious  pigment  pair,  w^hy  then  the  scroll 

Would    glare   w^ith   colors   meaningless    and    bright. 

Or  show^  an  empty  canvas,  blurred  with  light. 

LAWNS 

The   roads   that  from   my   childhood  s   home   led   out. 
As  seasons  changed  -were  paved  w^ith  dust  or  snow^ ; 
And  in  the  summer,  bordered  all  about 
With  unkempt  grasses,  and  wild  w^eeds  ablow^. 

I  can  recall  the  early  ride  to  to^vn. 
One  soft  spring  morning  in  the  month  of  May. 
(The  promised  purchase  of  my  Sunday  gow^n 
Lent  mystery  and  glory  to  the  day.) 

And  I  recall  the  feeling  even  yet. 
Which  stole  upon  me  as  w^e  neared  the  place 
Where  country  roads  Nvith  city  pavements  met. 
For  there  life  seemed  to  show^  a  fairer  face. 

The  gala  windows  of  the  tempting  store — 
The  throngs  of  people  moving  on  and  on — 
I  loved  the  sight  of  these  ;  but  loved  still  more 
The  vernal  splendor  of  each  close  cut  lawn. 

Down  to  the  very  street  from  each  abode 

They  stretched  their  lovely  lengths,  block  after  block; 

A  comely  contrast  to  the  dusty  road 

And  w^eedy  w^ilds  where  I  was  w^ont  to  w^alk. 

They  lay  like  velvet  carpets  soft  and  bright. 
Spread  for  the  feet  of  Beauty  and  Repose. 
My  unformed  mind  w^as  moved   by  pure  delight. 
And  something  sweet  and  tender  in  me  rose. 

A    vision    nebulous    and    indistinct 

Lifted  my  fancy  to  a  world  ideal 

Where  earth  and  fairyland  w^ere  interlinked 

And  all  the      might  be  s      of  this  life  Avere  real. 


64 


And   ■where   the  country  places   all   were   towns. 
With    gala    windows    filled    with    What-we-Seek ; 
Where  little  children  wore  their  Sunday  gowns 
And   danced   on   emerald   lawns   throughout  the   week. 

bo  in   her  •wonderhouse  oi   beauteous  wares 
Which  Life   has  shown  to  me,   a  green  lawn  seems 
Like  tapestries  thrown  over  flights  of  stairs 
On  which  I  mounted  to  my  world  of  dreams. 


I  AM  RUNNING  FORTH  TO 
MEET  YOU 

I  am  running  forth  to  meet  you,  O  my  Master, 
For  they  tell  me  you  are  surely  on  the  w^ay ; 

Yes,  they  tell  me  you  are  coming  back  again 
(While  I  run,  while  I  run). 

And  I  wish  my  feet  were  winged  to  speed  on  faster. 
And  I  wish  I  might  behold  you  here  today. 
Lord  of  men. 


I  am  running,  yet  1  ■walk  beside  my  neighbor. 

And  I  take  the  duties  given  me  to  do  ; 

Yes,  I  take  the  daily  duties  as  they  fall 

(While  I  run,  while  I  run). 

And  my  heart  runs  with  my  hand  and  helps  the  labor. 

For  I  think  this  is  the  way  that  leads  to  you. 

Lord  of  all. 


I  am  running,  yet  1  turn  from  toil  and  duty. 

Oftentimes  to  just  the  art  of  being  glad  ; 

Yes,  to  just  the  joys  that  make  the  earth-world  bright 

(While  I  run,  while  I  run). 

For  the  soul  that  •worships  God  must  worship  beauty. 

And  the  heart  that  thinks  of  You  can  not  be  sad. 

Lord  of  Light. 


I  am  running,  yet  I  pause  to  greet  my  brother. 

And  I  lean  to  nd  my  garden  of  its  weed  ; 

Yes.   I  lean,   although  I  lift  my  thoughts  above 

(While  I  run,  ^vhlle  I  run). 

And   1   think   of  that   command.      Love   one    another. 

As  I  hear  discordant  sounds  of  creed  w^ith  creed. 

Lord  of  Love. 


I  am  running,  and  the  road  is  lit  w^ith  splendor. 

And  it  brightens  and  shines  fairer  with  each  span 

Yes,  it  brightens  like  the  highway  in  a  dream 

(While  I  run,  w^hile  I  run). 

And  my  heart  to  all  the  w^orld  grow^s  very  tender. 

For  I  seem  to  see  the  Christ  in  every  man. 

Lord  supreme. 


65 


\ 


^^^.  .^. 


HIS   LAST   LETTER 


WELL,  you  are  tree ; 
The  longed-for,  lied-for,  waited-for  decree 
Is  yours  to-day. 
I  made  no  protest — and  you  nad  your  say. 
And  left  me  witK  no  vestige  of  repute. 
"Neglect,  aouse.  and  cruelty"  you  cKarge, 
Witn  broken  marnage-vows.      TKe  list  was  large. 
But  not  to  be  denied.      So  I  was  mute. 

Now  you  sball  listen  to  a  few  plain  facts 

Before  you  go  out  wholly  from  my  life 

As  some  man  s  wife. 
Read  carefully  this  statement  of  your  acts 

Which  changed  the  luster  of  my  honeymoon 

To  somber  gloom. 
And  wrenched  the  cover  from  Pandora  s  box. 

In  those  first  talks 

'Twixt  bride  and  groom,  I  sho\ved  you  my  whole  neart,- 
Showed  you  how  deep  my  love  Nvas  and  how^  true  ^ 
With  all  a  strong  man  s  feeling  I  loved  ^OU. 
(God,  how  I  loved  you,  my  own  chosen  mate!) 
But  I  learned  this 

(So  poorly  did  you  play  your  little  part)  : 
You  married  marriage — to  avoid  the  fate 

Of  having  "Miss" 
Carved  on  your  tombstone.      Love  you  did  not  know; 

But  you  were  greedy  for  the  show^y  things 

That  money  brings. 
Such  weak  affection  as  you  could  besto^v 

Was  given  the  provider,  not  the  lover. 

The  knowledge  hurt.      Keen  pain  like  that  is  dumb 


s: 


66 


\  f 


And  masks  itself  in  smiles,  lest  men  discover. 
But  I  was  lonely,  and  the  feeling  grew 
The  more  I  studied  you. 
Into  your  shallow  heart  love  could  not  come; 

But  yet  you  loved  my  love,  because  it  gave 

The  prowess  of  a  mistress  o'er  a  slave. 
You  show^ed  your  power 
In  petty  tyranny,  hour  after  hour. 

Day  after  day,  year  after  lengthening  year; 
My  tasks,  my  pleasures,  my  pursuits  were  not 

Held  near  or  dear. 
Or  made  to  seem  important  in  your  thought. 

My  friends  were  not  your  friends;  you  goaded  me 

By  foolish  and  ignoble  jealousy. 
Till,  through  suggestion's  laws, 
I  gave  you  cause. 

The  beauteous  ideal  love  had  hung 
In  my  soul's  shrine. 
And  worshiped  as  a  something  all  divine. 

With  wanton  hand  you  flung 
Into  the  dust.     And  then  you  wondered  why 
My  love  should  die. 

My  sins  and  derelictions  cry  aloud 
To  all  the  world.      My  head  is  bowed 

Under  its  merited  reproaches.      Yours 
Is  lifted  to  receive 

The  sympathy  the  court's  decree  insures. 
1  he  world  loves  to  believe 

In  Man  s  depravity  and  Woman's  worth; 

ijut  I  am  one  of  many  men  on  earth 

Whose  loud,  resounding  fall 

Is  like  the  crashing  of  some  well-built  wall. 

Which  those  who  seek  can  trace 

To  the  slow  work  of  insects  at  its  base. 

Be  not  afraid  ; 

The  alimony  will  be  promptly  paid. 


HUSKS 


SHE  looked  at  Ker  neigKbor's    house   in   tlie   light 
of  tKe  waning  day — ■ 
A  sKower  of  rice  on  the  steps  and  tne  snreds  oi  a 
bride  s  bouquet. 
And  tben  she  drew  tbe  sKade,  to  sKut  out  tke  growing 

gloom. 
But  she   shut  it  into  her  heart  instead.      (Was  that  a 
voice  in  the  room?)    " 

"My  neighbor  is  sad,"    she   sighed,   "like    the  mother 

bird  ■who  sees 
The  last  of  her  brood  fly  out  of  the  nest  to  make  its 

home  in  the  trees    — 
And   then  in  a  passion   of  tears — "But,   oh,   to   be   sad 

like  her ; 
Sad  for  a  joy  that  has  come  and  gone !      (Did  some  one 

speak,  or  stir?) 
She    looked    at    her    faded    hands,    all    burdened    with 

costly  rings  ; 
She  looked  on  her  widowed  home,  all  burdened  with 

priceless  things. 
She  thought  of  the  dead  years  gone,  of  the  empty  years 

ahead — 
(Yes,  something  stirred  and  something  spake,  and  this 

was  ^vhat  it  said  :) 

"  The  voice  of  the  Might  Have  Been  speaks  here  through  the 

lonely  dusk; 
Life  offered  the  fruits  of  love;  you  gathered  only  the  husk- 
There  are  jewels  ablaze  on  your  breast  where  never  a  child  has 

slept." 

She  covered  her  face  with  her  ringed  old  hands,  and 
wept,  and  wept,  and  wept. 


NEUTRAL 

That  pale  word   "Neutral"   sits  becomingly 

On   lips   of  weaklings.      But   the   men   whose   brains 

Find  fuel  in  their  blood,  the  men  whose  minds 

Hold  sympathetic  converse  with  their  hearts. 

Such  men  are  never  neutral.      That  word  stands 

Unsexed  and  impotent  in  Realms  of  Speech 

When  mighty  problems  face  a  startled  world 

No  virile  man  is   neutral.      Right  or  wrong 

His  thoughts  go  forth,  assertive,  unafraid 

To  stand  by  his  convictions,  and  to  do 

Their  part  in  shaping  issues  to  an  end. 

Silence  may  guard  the  door  of  useless  >vords. 

At  dictate  of  Discretion  ;  but  to  stand 

Without  opinions  in  a  w^orld  w^hich  needs 

Constructive  thinking,  is  a  cow^ard  a  part. 


68 


PEACE  SHOULD  NOT  COME 


thii 


foul    eartn 
w^e     Cleanse     the 


PEACE   snould    not   come    alon< 
way. 
Peace  snould  not   come,    until 
eartn. 
(joa  waited  for  us  ;  now^  in  a\vful  ^vratK 
lie  pours  tne  blooa  of  men  out  day  by  day 
To  purify  the  highroad  for  her  feet. 

Why,  what  would  Peace  do,  in  a  world  where  hearts. 
Are   filled   with   thoughts   like   poison-pointed   darts? 
It  \vere  not  meet,  surely  it  ^vere  not  meet 
For  Peace  to  come,  and  with  her  white  robes  hide 
These  industries  of  death — these  guns  and  swords, — 
These    uniformed,    hate-iilled,    destructive    hordes. — 
These  hideous  things,  that  are  each  nation's  pride. 
So  long  as  men  believe  in  armed  might 
Let   arms    be    brandished.      Let   not    Peace    be    sought 
Until  the  race-heart  empties  out  all  thought 
Of  blows  and  blood,  as  arguments  for  Right. 
The  world  has  never  had  enough  of  war. 
Else  war  were  not.      Now  let  the  monster  stand 
Until  he  slays  himself  with  his  own  hand  ; 
Though  no  man  knows  what  he  is  fighting  for. 
Then  in  the  place  where  wicked  cannons  stood 
Let  Peace  erect  her  shrine  of  Brotherhood. 

THE  TRAVELER 

Bristling  with  steeples,  high  against  the  hill. 

Like  some  great  thistle  in  the  rosy  dawn 

It    stood ;    the    To\vn-of-Christian-Churches,     stood. 

The  Traveler  surveyed  it  with  a  smile. 

Surely,      He  said,  "here  is  the  home  of  peace  ; 
xlere  neighbor  lives  with  neighbor  in  accord, 
(jod   in  the   heart  of  all;  else  why  these   spires?  ' 
(Christmas  season,   and  every  bell  ringing.) 

1  he  sudden  shriek  of  whistles  changed  the  sound 
From  mellow^  music  into  jarring  noise. 

1  hen  down   the   street  pale   hurrying  children   came. 
And  vanished  in  the  ya\vning  factory  door. 
He  called  to  them:  "Come  back,  come  unto  Me.  ' 
The  foreman  cursed,  and  caned  Him  from  the  place. 
(Christmas  season,  and  every  bell  ringing.) 

Forth  from  two  churches  came  two  men,   and   met. 

Disputing  loudly  over  boundary  lines. 

Hate  in  their  eyes,  and  murder  in  their  hearts. 

A  haughty  woman  drew  her  skirts  aside 

Because  her  fallen  sister  passed  that  way. 

The   Traveler  rebuked   them   all.      Amazed, 

They  asked  in  indignation,   "Who  are  you. 

Daring  to  interfere  in  private  lives?" 

The  Traveler  replied,  "My  name  is  CHRIST." 

(Christmas  season,  and  every  bell  ringing.) 


'h 


69 


DIVORCED 


THINKING  of  one  tiling  all  day  long,  at  nigKt 
I  fall  asleep,  brain  >veary  and  neart  sore  ; 
But  only  for  a  little  wKile.      At  three. 
Sometimes  at  t>vo  o  clock,  I  wake  and  lie. 
Staring  out  into  darkness ;  ■while  my  thoughts 
Begin  the  w^eary  tread-mill  toil  again. 
From  that  w^hite  marriage  morning  of  our  youth 
Dow^n  to  this  dreadful  hour. 

I   see  your  face 
Lit  with  the  lovelight  of  the  honeymoon ; 
I  hear  your  voice,  that  lingered  on  my  name 
As  if  it  loved  each  letter ;  and  I  feel 
The  clinging  of  your  arms  about  my  form. 
Your  kisses  on  my  cheek — and  long  to  break 
The  anguish  of  such  memories  with  tears. 
But  cannot  weep ;  the  fountain  has  run  dry. 
We  were  so  young,  so  happy,  and  so  full 
Of  keen,  sw^eet  joy  of  life.      I  had  no  w^ish 
Outside  your  pleasure  ;  and  you  loved  me  so 
That  when  I  sometimes  felt  a  woman  s  need 
For  more  serene  expression  of  man  s  love 
(The  need  to  rest  in  calm  artection  s  bay 
And  not  sail  ever  on  the  stormy  main). 
Yet  w^ould  I  rouse  myself  to  your  desire ; 
Meet   ardent   kisses   with    kisses   just   as   w^arm ; 
So  nothing  I  could  give  should  be  denied. 

And  then  our  children  came.      Deep  in  my  soul. 

From  the  first  hour  of  conscious  motherhood, 

I  knew^  I  should  conserve  myself  for  this 

Most  holy  oince  ;  knew  God  meant  it  so. 

Yet  even  then,  I  held  your  wishes  first; 

And  by  my  double  duties  lost  the  bloom 

And  freshness  of  my  beauty;  and  beheld 

A  look  of  disapproval  in  your  eyes. 

But  w^ith  the  coming  of  our  precious  child. 

The  lover  s  smile,  tinged  w^ith  the  father  s  pride. 

Returned  again ;  and  helped  to  make  me  strong ; 

And  life  w^as  very  sweet  for  both  of  us. 

Another,  and  another  birth,  and  twice 

The  little  w^hite  hearse  paused  beside  our  door 

And   took  away  some   portion  of  my  youth 

With  my  sweet  babies.      At  the  first  you  seemed 


70 


To  suffer  w^ith  me,   standing  very  near; 

But  >vnen  I  >vept  too  long,  you  turnea  aw^ay. 

And  I  -was  nurt,  not  realizing  tnen 

My  grief  ^vas  semsh       I  could  see  tne  cnange 

WKich  motnernood  and  sorrow  made  in  me ; 

And  wKen  I  saw  tKe  change  that  came  to  you, 

Saw^  now^  your  eyes  looked  past  me  w^nen  you  talked. 

And    w^Ken    I    missed    the    love    tone    from    your    voice, 

I  did  that  foolish  thing  w^eak  w^omen  do. 

Complained,  and  cried,  accused  you  of  neglect. 

And  made  myself  oonoxious  in  your  sight. 

And  often,  after  you  had  left  my  side. 
Alone  I  stood  before  my  mirror,  mad 
With  anger  at  my  pallid  cheeks,  my  dull 
Unlighted    eyes,    my   shrunken   mother-breasts. 
And  w^ept,   and  w^ept,  and  faded  more  and  more. 
How  could  I   hope   to  win   back  wandering  love. 
And  make  new  flames  in  dying  embers  leap 
By  such  ungracious  means? 

And   then   She   came. 
Firm-bosomed,  round  of  cheek,  with  such  young  eyes. 
And  all  the  ways  of  youth.      I  who  had  died 
A  thousand  deaths  in  waiting  the  return 
Of  that  old  love-look  to  your  face  once  more. 
Died  yet  again  and  went  straight  into  hell 
When  I  beheld  it  come  at  her  approach. 

My  God !  My  God !  How  have  I  borne  it  all ! 

Yet  since  she  had  the  power  to  wake  that  look — 

The  power  to  sweep  the  ashes  from  your  heart 

Of  burned-out  love  of  me,  and  light  new  nres. 

One  thing  remained  for  me — to  let  you  go. 

I  had  no  wish  to  keep  the  empty  frame 

From  which  the  priceless  picture  had  been  wrenched. 

Nor  do  I  blame  you ;  it  was  not  your  fault : 

You  gave  me  all  that  most  men  can  give — love 

Of  youth,  of  beauty,  and  of  passion  ;  and 

I  gave  you  full  return ;  my  w^omanhood 

Matched  well  your  manhood.       Yet  had  you  grown  ill. 

Or  old,   and  unattractive  from   some   cause 

(Less  close  than  was  my  service  unto  you), 

I  should  have  clung  the  tighter  to  you,  dear; 

And  loved  you,  loved  you,  loved  you  more  and  more. 

I  grow^  so  weary  thinking  of  these  things ; 
Day  in,  day  out,  and  half  the  awful  nights. 


71 


HAPPINES    S 


rHERE  arc  so  many  little  things  which  make  life  beautiful. 
I  can  recall  a  day  m  early  youth  when    I  ^\'as  long- 
ing  for   happiness. 
Toward    the    western    hills   I    gazed,    watcning    for   its    ap- 
proach. 
The   hills  lay   between  me  and  the  setting  sun,   and  over 

them  led  a  highNvay. 
When   some  traveler  crossed  the  hill,   always  a  nne  gray 

dust  rose  cloudlilce  against  the  sky. 
The  traveler  I  could  not  distinguish,  but  the  dust-cloud  I 
could   see. 

And  the  dust-cloud  seemed  formed  of  hopes  and  possi- 
bilities— each  speck  an  embryo  event. 

At  sunset,  w^hen  the  skies  ^vere  fair,  the  dust-cloud  grew^ 
radiant  and  shone  with  visions. 

Ihe  happiness  for  which  I  waited  came  not  to  me  adown 
that  Avestern   slope. 

But  now  I  can  recall  the  cloud  of  golden  dust,  the  sunset, 
and  the  highway  leading  over  the  hill, 

J.  he  wonderful  hope  and  expectancy  of  my  Keart,  tbe 
visions  of  youth  in  my  eyes  ;  and  I  know  this  was 
happiness. 

There  are  so  many  little  things  which  make  life  beautiful. 

1  can  recall  another  day  when  I  rebelled  at  life's  monotony. 

Everywhere  about  me  was  the  commonplace  ;    and  nothing 

seemed  to  happen. 
Each  day  was  like  its   yesterday,  and   to-morrow  gave   no 

promise  of  change. 
My  young  heart  rose  rebellious  in  my  breast,    and    I    ran 

aimlessly  into  the   sunlight — the   glowing  sunlight  of 

June 


I  sent  out  a  dumb  cry  to  Fate,  demanding  larger  joys  and 

more  delignt. 
I  ran  blindly  into  a  field  of  blooming  clover. 

It  was  breast-nign,   and  billowed   about  me  like  rose-red 

w^aves  oi  a  fragrant  sea. 
The    bees   were    singing  above    it;   and   tneir   little   brow^n 

bodies  were  loaded  \vitn  noney-dew^,   extracted  from. 

tne  clover  blossoms. 
Xne  sun  reeled  in  tne  heavens,  dizzy  witn  its  ow^n 

splendor. 
The  day  went  into  nignt,  witnout  bringing  any   new    event 

to  cnange  my  life. 
But    now   I    recall    tne    field    of    blooming    clover    and    tKe 

honey-laden    bees,    tne    glorious    June    sunlight    and 

the   passion  of  youth  in  my  heart ;    and  1    know  that 

\vas    happiness. 

There  are  so  many  liltle  things  which  make  life  beautiful. 
Yesterday   a   failure   stared   me   in   the   face,   where   I   had 

thought  to  welcome  proud  success. 
There  ^vas  no  radiant  cloud  of  dust  against  the  western 

sky,  and  no  clover  field  lying  fragrant  under  mid-June 

suns ; 
Neither  was  youth  with  me  any  more. 

But  under  the  vines  that  clung  against  my  walls,  a  fiock  of 

birds  sought  shelter  just  at  twilight; 
And,  standing  at  my  casement,  I  could  hear  the  twitter  of 

their  voices  and  the  soft,  sweet  flutter  of  their  ^vlngs. 
Then  over  me  there  fell  a  sense  of  peace  and  calm,    and 

love  for  all  created  things,  and  trust  illimitable. 

And  that,  I  knew,  was  happiness. 

There  are  so  many  little  things  which  make  life  beautiful. 


V 


-^ 


THE  GULF  STREAM 


SKILLED    manner,   and   counted   sane   and  wise, 
TKat    Avas    a  curious  thing  Avnich  chanced  to 
me. 
So  good  a  sailor  on  so  fair  a  sea. 
WitK   favoring  winds  and   blue  unsnadowed   skies. 
Led  by  tbe  faithful  beacon  of  Love  s  eyes 

Past  reef  and  sKoal,  my  life-boat  bounded  free 
And  fearless  of  all  dangers  that  might  be 
Under  calm  waves,  where  many  a  sunk  rock  lies. 

A  golden  dawn ;  yet  suddenly  my  barque 

Strained  at  the  sails,  as  m  a  cyclone  s  blast. 
And  battled  with  an  unseen  current's  force. 

For  we  had  entered  when  the  night  was  dark 

That  old  tempestuous  Gulf  Stream  of  the  Past. 
But  for  Love's  eyes,  I  had  not  kept  the  course. 

THAT  DAY 

O  heart  of  mine,  through  all  these  perfect  days. 
Whether  of  white  Decembers  or  green  Mays, 
There  runs  a  dark  thought  like  a  creeping  snake. 
Or  like  a  black  thread  which  by  some  mistake 
Life  has  strung  through  the  pearls  of  happy  years, 
A  thought  which  borders  all  my  joy  with  tears. 

Some  day,  some  day,  or  you,  or  L  alone. 

Must  look  upon  the  scenes  w^e  two  have  known. 

Must  tread  the  self-same  path  we  two  have  trod. 

And  cry  in  vain  to  one  who  is  with  God 

To  lean  down  from  the  Silent  Realms  and  say: 

"I  love  you"  in  the  old  familiar  way. 

Some  day — and  each  day,  beauteous  though   it  be. 
Brings  closer  that  dread  hour  for  you  or  me. 
Fleet-footed  joy,  who  hurries  time  along. 
Is  yet  a  secret  foe  w^ho  does  us  w^rong; 
Speeding   us    gaily,   though    he    well   doth    know 
Of  yonder  pathway  where  but  one  may  go. 

Ay,  one  will  go.      To  go  is  sweet,  I  wis — 

Yet  God  must  needs  invent  some  special  buss 

To  make  His  Paradise  seem  very  dear 

To  one  who  goes  and  leaves  the  other  here. 

To  sever  souls  so  bound  by  love  and  time. 

For  any  one  but  God,  w^ould  be  a  crime. 

Yet  death   will  entertain   his  own,   I   think. 
To  one  who  stays  life  gives  the  gall  to  drink; 
To  one  w^ho  stays,  or  be  it  you  or  me. 
There   waits  the   Garden  of  Gethsemane. 
O  dark,  inevitable,  and  aw^ful  day. 
When  one  of  us  must  go  and  one  must  stay! 


74 


THE  CALL 


/N  the  banquet  hall  of  Progress 
God  has  bidden  to  a  feast 
All  the  women  in  the  East. 

Some  nave  said.      We  are  not  ready — 
We   must  Avait  anotner  day." 
Some,   Avitn   voices   clear  and   steady 
Lord,  Ave  near,  and  we  obey." 

Otners,   timid   and   uncertain. 
Step  fortK   trembling  in  the  light. 
Many    hide    behind    the    curtain 
With  their  faces  hid  from  sight. 

In  the  banquet  hall  of  Progress 
All  must  gather  soon  or  late. 
And  the  patient  Host  will  wait. 

It  today  or  ii  tomorrow. 

If  m  gladness,  or  in  w^oe. 

If  with  pleasure,  or  with  sorrow. 

All  must  ansAver,  all  must  go. 

They  must  go  with  unveiled  faces. 
Clothed  in  virtue  and  in  pride. 
For  the  Host   has   set  their  places. 
And  He  w^iU  not  be  denied. 


JUST  YOU 


All  the  selfish   joys  of  earth 

I  am  getting  through. 
That  which  used  to  lure  and  lead 

Now^  I  pass  and  give  no  heed ; 
Only  one  thing  seems  of  w^orth — 

Just  you. 

Not  for  me  the  lonely  height. 
And  the  larger  view^ ; 

Low^lier  w^ays   seems  fair   and   w^ide. 
While  we  w^ander  side   by  side. 

One  thing  makes  the  whole  w^orld  bright- 
Just  you. 

Not  for  distant  goals  I  run. 

No  great  aim  pursue  ; 
Most  of  earth  s  ambitions  seem 

Like  the  shadow  of  a  dream. 
All  the  world  to  me  means  one — 

Just  you. 


75 


NSATISFIED 


J^ 


■i''t.^i 


:'.1 


1::^^ 


m 


^^ 


'T^HE  bird  flies  home  to  its  youn§; 

1  he  flower  folds  its  leaves  about  an  opening  bud. 
And  in  my  neighbor's  house  there  is  the  cry  of  a  child. 
I  close  my  window  that  I  need  not  hear. 

One  IS  mine,  and  she  is  very  beautiiul ; 
And  m  ner  heart  there  is  no  evil  thought. 
There  is  even  love  in  lier  heart — • 
Love  of  life,  love  of  joy,  love  of  this  fair  ^vorla, 
And  love  of  me  (or  love  of  my  love  for  her)  ; 
Yet  she  ^vlll  never  consent  to  bear  me  a  child. 
Ana  \vhen  I  speak  of  it  she  weeps. 
Always  she  ^veeps,   saying: 

Do  1  not  bring  joy  enough  into  your  life? 
Are  you  not  satisned  with  me  and  my  love. 
As  I  am  satisfied  witb  you? 

Never  would  I  urge  you  to  some  great  peril 
1  o  please  my  w^him  ;  yet  ever  so  you  urge  me  ; 
Urge  me  to  risk  my  happiness — yea,   life  itself — 
Do  lightly  do  you  hold  me.         And  then  she  weeps. 
Always  she  weeps  until  I  kiss  a\vay  her  tears. 
And  soothe  her  Avith  sweet  lies,  saying  I  am  content. 
Then   she   goes   singing  through   the   house   like   some 

bright  bird 
Preening  her  w^ings,  making  nerself  all  beautiful. 
Perching  upon  my  knee,  and  pecking  at  my  lips 
With  little  kisses.      So  again  love  s  ship 
Goes    sailing  forth    upon    a   portless    sea. 
From  now^here  unto  nowhere  ;  and  it  takes 
Or   brings  no  cargoes  to  enricK   the   world. 

The  years 
Are  passing  by  us.      We  will  yet  be  old 
Who  now^  are  young.      And  all  the  man  in  me 
Cries  for  the  reproduction  of  myself 

Through   her  I  love.      Why,   love   and  youth   like   ours 
Could  populate  with  gods  and  goddesses 
This  great,  green  earth,  and  give  the  race  new  types 
Were  it  made  fruitful!  Often  I  can  see. 
As  in  a  vision,  desolate  old  age 
And  loneliness  descending  on  us  two. 
And  no-where  in  the  world,  nowhere  beyond  the  earth. 
Fruit  of  my  loins  and  of  her  womb  to  feed 
Our  hungry  hearts.      To  me  it  seems 
More  sorrowful  than  sitting  by  small  graves 
And  wetting  sad-eyed  pansies  w^ith  our  tears. 

The  bird  flies  home  to  its  young; 
The  flower  folds  its  leaves  about  an  opening  bud. 
And  in  my  neighbor's  house  there  is  the  cry  of  a  child. 
I  close  my  window  that  I  need  not  hear. 


76 


77 


ALL  IN  A  COACH  AND  FOUR 


THE  quality  folk  went  riding  by 
All  in   a  coach  and  four. 
And  pretty  Annette,  in  a  calico  gown, 
(Bringing  her  marketing  things  from  town). 
Stopped  sKort  w^ith  Ker  Sunday  store. 
And  Avondered  it  ever  it  snould  betide 
Tbat  sKe  in  a  long  plumed  nat  w^ould  ride 
Away  in  a  coacn  and  four. 

A  lord  tnere  ^vas,  on  a  lonely  soul. 

There  in  the  coach  and  four; 

His  years  were  young  but  his  heart  ^vas  old. 

And  he  hated  his  coaches  and  hated  his  gold 

(Those  things  w^hich  v^^e   all   adore). 

And  he  thought  how^  sw^eet  it  Avould  be  to  trudge 

Along  with  the  fair  little  country  drudge. 

And  av^'ay  from  his  coach  and  four. 

So  back  he  rode  the  very  next  day 

All  in  his  coach  and  four. 

And  he  went  each  day  w^hether  dry  or  w^et. 

Until  he  married  the  sweet  Annette 

(In  spite  of  her  lack  of  lore). 

But  they  didn't  trudge  off  on  foot  together. 

For  he   bought  her  a  hat  with  a  long,  long  feather. 

And  they  rode  in  the  coach  and  four. 

Now  a  thing  like  this  could  happen  ^ve  know^. 

All  in  a  coach  and  four ; 

But  the  fact  of  it  is,    twixt  me  and  you. 

There  isn  t  a  word  of  the  story  true, 

(Pardon  I  do  implore). 

It  is  only  a  foolish  and  fanciful  song. 

That  came  to  me  as  I  rode  along. 

All  in   a  coach   and  four. 


A  MINOR  CHORD 

I  heard  a  strain  of  music  in  the  street — 

A  wandering  waif  of  sound.      And  then  straightway 

A  nameless  desolation  filled  the  day. 

The  great  green  earth  that  had  been  fair  and  sweet 

Seemed  but  a  tomb;  the  life  I  thought  replete 

With  joy,  grew^  lonely  for  a  vanished  May. 

Forgotten  sorrow^s  resurrected  lay 

Like  bleaching  skeletons  about  my  feet. 

Above  me  stretched  the  silent,  suffering  sky 

Dumb  w^ith  vast  anguish  for  departed  suns 

That  brutal  time  to  nothingness  has  hurled. 

The  daylight  was  as  sad  as  smiles  that  lie 

Upon  the  wistful  unkissed  mouths  of  nuns. 

And  I  stood  prisoned  in  an  aw^ful  w^orld. 


78 


THE  SQUANDERER 


G 


OD  gave  him  passions,  splendid  as  the  sun. 
Meant  for  the  lordhest  purposes;  a  part 
Of  Nature's  full  and  fertile  mother  heart. 
From    which    new    systems    and  'new    worlds 


are   spun. 
And  now  behold,  behold,  what  he  has  done; 
In  Folly's  Court  and  Carnal  Pleasure's  Mart 
He  flung  the  wealth  life   gave  him  at  the  start; 
This  of  all  mortal  sins,  the  deadliest  one. 

At  dawn  he  stood,  potential,  opulent 

With  virile  manhood   and  emotions  keen. 

And  wonderful  with  God's  creative  fire. 

At  noon  he  stands,  all  love's  large  fortune  spent 

In  petty  traffic,  unproductive — mean — 

A  pauper,  cursed  w^ith  impotent  desire. 

THE  LAND  OF  THE  GONE- 
AWAY  SOULS 

Oh !  that  is  a  beautiful  land  I  wis. 
The  land  of  the  Gone-Away  Souls. 
Yes,  a  lovelier  region  by  far  than  this 
(Though  this  is  a  world  most  fair.) 
The  goodliest  goal  of  all  good  goals. 
Else  why  do  our  friends  stay  there? 

I  walk  in  a  world  that  is  sweet  with  friends. 
And  earth  I  have  ever  held  dear; 
Yes,  love  with  duty  and  beauty  blends 
To  render  the  earth  place  bright. 
But  faster  and  faster,  year  on  year 
My  comrades  hurry  from  sight. 

They  hurry  away  to  the  Over-There, 

And  few  of  them  say  farewell 

Yes,  they  go  away  with  a  secret  air 

As  if  on  a  secret  quest. 

And  they  come  not  back  to  the  earth  to  tell 

Why  that  land  seems  the  best. 

Messages  come  from  the  mystic  sphere. 

But  few  know  the  code  of  that  land. 

Yes,  many  the  message  but  few  who  hear. 

In  the  din  of  the  world  below. 

Or  hearing  the  message,  can  understand 

Those  truths  which  we  long  to  know. 

But  it  must  be  the  goal  of  all  good  goals. 

And  I  think  of  it  more   and   more. 

Yes,  think  of  that  land  of  the  Gone-Away  Souls 

And  its  growing  hosts  of  friends 

Who  will  hail  my  bark  when  it  touches  snore 

Where  the  last  brief  journey  ends. 


79 


SIRIUS 


S 


INCE  Sinus  crossed  tKe  Milky  Way 

Full  sixty  tnousand  years  nave  gone ; 
Yet  hour  by  hour,  and  day  by  day. 

This  tireless  star  speeds  on  and  on. 


Methinks  he  must  be  moved  to  mirth 

By  that  droll  tale  of  Genesis, 
Which  says  creation  had  its  birth 

For   such    a    puny   ^vorld    as    this. 

To  hear  how  One  w^ho  fashioned  all 
Those  Solar  systems,  tier  on  tierc. 

Expressed   in   little   Adam  s   fall 

The  purpose  of  a  million  spheres. 

And,  witness  of  the  endless  plan. 

To  splendid  vv^rath  he  must  be  ^vrought 

By  pigmy  creeds  presumptuous  man 

Sends  forth  as  God  s  primeval  thought. 

Perchance  from  half  a  hundred  stars 
He  hears  as  many  curious  things ; 

From    Venus,    Jupiter,    and    Mars, 

And  Saturn  Avith  the   beauteous  rings. 

There  may  be  students  of  the  Cause 

Who   send   their  revelations   out. 
And  formulate  their  codes  of  laws. 

With    heavens    for   faith    and    hells    for    doubt. 

On  planets  old  ere  form  or  place 

Was  lent  to   earth,   may  dw^ell — w^ho   know^s — • 
A  God-like  and  perfected  race 

That  hails  great  Sinus  as  he  goes. 

In  Zones  that  circle  moon  and  sun, 

'Twixt  w^orld  and  vk'orld,  he  may  see  souls 

Whose  span  of  earthly  life  is  done. 

Still  journeying  up  to  higher  goals. 

And  on  dead  planets  grey  and  cold 

Grim  spectral  souls,   that  harbored  hate 

Life  after  life,  he  may  behold 
Descending  to  a  darker  fate. 

And  on  his  grand  majestic  course 

He  may  have  caught  one  glorious  sight 

Of  that  vast  shining  central  Source 

From   which    proceeds    all   Life,    all   Light. 


80 


Since  Sirius  crossed   tKe   Milky   Way 
rull  sixty  thousand  years  liave  gone 

No  mortal  man  may  bid  liim  stay. 

No  mortal  man  may  speed  Kim  on. 

No   mortal   mind    may   comprehend 

What  is  beyond,  what  was  before; 

To  God  be  glory  without  end. 

Let  man  be  humble  and  adore. 


MY  FAITH 

My  faith  is  rooted  in  no  written  creed  ; 

And  there  are  those,  who  call  me  heretic; 

Yet  year  on  year,  though  I  be  well,  or  sick. 

Or  opulent,  or  in  the  slough  of  need. 

If,  light  of  foot,  fair  Life  trips  by  me  pleasuring. 

Or,  by  the  rule  of  pain,  old  Time  stands  measuring 

The  dull  drab  moments — still  ascends  my  cry 

God  reigns  on  high  ; 
He  doeth  all  things  well." 

Not  much  I  prize,  or  one,  or  any  brand 

Of  theologic  lore ;  nor  think  too  well 

Of  generally  accepted  heaven  and  hell. 

But  faith  and  knowledge    build  at  Love's  command 

A  beauteous  heaven ;  a  heaven  of  thought  all  clarified 

Of  hate,  and  fear,  and  doubt;  a  heaven  of  rarified 

And  perfect  trust;  and  from  that  heaven  I  cry 

God  reigns  on  high. 
Whatever  is,  is  best." 

My  faith  refuses  to  accept  the  "fall," 

It  sees  man  ever  as  a  child  of  God 

Growing  in  wisdom  as  new  realms  are  trod 

Until  the  Christ  in  him  is  One  with  All. 

From  this  full  consciousness  my  faith  is   borrowing 

Light  to  illuminate  Life's  darkest  sorrowing. 

Whatever  woes  assail  me  still  I  cry 

God  reigns  on  high  ; 
He  doeth  all  things  well  " 

\l/L  •^L**^-^"'^^  P^'^y^'"  t^e  language  of  the  heart 
Which  gives  us  converse  with  the  hosts  unseen  ; 
And  those  who  linger  in  the  vales  between 
The   Here   and    Yonder   in   these   prayers   take   part. 
My    dead    come    near,    and    say,    "Death    means    not 

perishing ; 
Cherish  us  in  your  thoughts;  for  by  that  cherishing 
bhall  severed  links   be  welded   bye   and   bye." 
God  reigns  on  high; 
Whatever  is,  is  best. 


81 


toMoihers 


In  tKe  old  times  oi  peace  we  went  our  ways, 

TKrougK  proper  days 

Of  little  joys  and  tasks.      Lonely  at  times, 

WKen  irom  tne  steeple  sounded  Nvedding-cKimes, 

Telling  to  all  tne  \vorld  some  maid  was  wife; 

But  taking  patiently  our  part  in  life 

As  it  was  portioned  us  by  ChurcK  and  State, 

Believing  it  our  fate. 

Our  thoughts  all  cnaste 
Held  yet  a  secret  wisn  to  love  and  mate 

Ere  youtK  and  virtue  snould  go  quite  to  waste. 
But  men  we  criticized  for  lack  of  strength. 
And  kept  them  at  arm's  length. 


Then  the  war  came 

The  world  was  all  aflame! 

The  men  we  had  thought  dull  and  void  of  power 

Were  heroes  in  an  hour. 

He  who  had  seemed  a  slave  to  petty  greed 

Showed  masterful  in  that  great  time  of  need. 

He  who  had  plotted  for  his  neighbor  s  pelf. 

Now  for  his  fellows  offered  up  himself. 

And  we  were  only  women,  forced  by  >var 

To  sacrifice  the  things  worth  living  for. 


Something  within  us  broke; 

Something  within  us  woke; 

The  wild  cave-woman  spoke. 


When  We  heard  the  sound  of  drumming, 
As  our  soldiers  went  to  camp. 
Heard  them  tramp,  tramp,  tramp; 
As  We  watched  to  see  them  coming, 
A  nd  they  looked  at  us  and  smiled 
(  Yes,  looked  back  ot  us  and  smiled) 
As  they  filed  along  by  hillock  ond  by  holloW, 
Then  our  hearts  were  so  beguiled 

That,  for  many  and  many  a  day, 
IVe  dreamed  we  heard  them  say, 
"Oh,  follow,  follow,  follow!" 

And  the  distant,  rolling  drum 
Called  us,  "Come,  come,  come!" 

Till  our  virtue  seemed  a  thing  to  give  away. 


HTHERE  is  something  in  the  sound  of  drum  and  fife 
■*        That  wakes  all  the  savage  instincts  into  life. 


War  had  swept  ten  thousand  years  away  from  earth. 
We  were  primal  once  again. 

82 


These  were  males,  not  modern  men: 
We  were  females  meant  to  bring  their  sons  to  birth. 

And  we  could  not  wait  for  any  formal  rite. 

We  could  hear  them  calling  to  us.  'Come  to-night ; 
For  to-morrow,  at  the  dawn. 
We  move  on ! 
And  the  drum 

Bellowed.     Come,  come,  come! 
And  the  fife 
Whistled.  "Life,  life,  life!" 

So  they  moved  on  and  fought  and  bled  and  died  ; 

Honored  and  mourned,  they  are  the  nation  s  pride. 

We  fought  our  battles,  too;  but  with  the  tide 

Of  our  red  blood  we  gave  the  world  new  lives. 

Because  we  were  not  wives 

We  are  dishonored.     Is  it  noble,  then. 

To  break  God  s  laws  only  by  killing  men 


To 


save  one  s  country  from  destruction.' 


w< 


Took  no  man  s  life  but  gave  our  chastity. 

And  sinned  the  ancient  sin 

To  plant  young  trees  and  fill  felled  forests  in. 

O  clergy  of  the  land, 

Bible  in  hand. 

All  reverently  you  stand. 

On  holy  thoughts  intent. 

While  barren  wives  receive  the  sacrament! 
Had  you  the  open  vision  yovi  could  see 

Phantoms  of  infants  murdered  in  the  womb 

Who  never  knew^  a  cradle  or  a  tomb 
Hovering  about  these  wives  accusingly. 

Bestow    the    sacrament!      Their    sins    are    not    well 

knovv-n — 
Ours  to  the  four  winds  of  the  earth  are  blown. 

83 


THE  TRIP  TO  MARS 


O 


rl !  by  and  by  we  snail  near  the  cry, 
Tnis  IS  the  way  to  Mars. 
Come  take  a  trip,  on  tne  morning  Snip ; 
It  sails  by  tne  Isle  oi  Stars. 


A  gflorious  view^  of  planets  ne^v 
We  promise   by   ni^Kt   and   day. 
Past  dying  suns  our  good  snip  runs. 
And  w^e  pause  at  tbe  Milky  Way. 

I  am  almost  sure  we  w^ill  take  tnat  tour 
Together,    my    dear,    my    dear. 
For,  ever  nave  we,  by  land  and  sea, 
(jone   journeying   far   and    near. 

Out  over  the  deep — o  er  mountain  steep. 
We  nave  traveled   mile  on  mile ; 
And  to  sail  aw^ay  to  the  Martian  Bay, 
On !  tnat  w^ere  a  trip  w^ortn  while. 

Our  snip  will  race  tnrougn  seas  of  space 
Up  into  tne  Realms  of  Lignt, 
Till  the  w^nirling  ball  of  the  earth  grow^s  small. 
And  is  utterly  lost  to  sight. 

Through   the   nebulous   spaw^n  w^here   planets  are  born 

We  shall  pass  w^ith  sails  ^vell  furled. 

And  with  eager  eyes  w^e  will  scan  the  skies. 

For  the  sights  of  a  new^-made  ^vorld. 

From  the  derelict  barque  of  a  sun  gone  dark. 

Adrift  on  our  fair  ship  s  path, 

A   beacon  star  shall   guide  us   afar. 

And  far  from  the  comet  s  w^rath. 

Oh!  many  a  start  of  pulse  and  heart 

We  have  felt  at  the  sights  of  land. 

But  \vhat  w^ould  we  do  if  the  dream  came  true. 

And  ^ve  sighted  the  Martian  strand? 

So,  if  some  day  you  come  and  say. 
"They  are  sailing  to  Mars,  I  hear. 
I  ^vant  you  to  know,  I  am  ready  to  go, — 
All  ready,  my  dear,  my  dear. 


84 


EARTH  BOUND 


NEW  Paradise  and  groom  and   tride  ; 
The  World  was  all  tKeir  own; 
Her  heart  swelled  full  of  love  and  pride  ; 
Yet  were  they  quite  alone? 
Now  now  IS  it,  oh  how  is  it,  and  why  is  it,"  (in  fear 
All  silent  to  herself  she  spake)  "that  something  strange 
seems  here? 


Along  the  garden  paths  they  walked; 

1  he  moon  was  at  its  height. 

And  lover-wise  they  strolled  and  talked; 

But  something  was  not  right. 

And      Who  IS  that,   now  who  is  that,  oh  who  is  that" 

quoth    she 
(All    silent    to    her    heart    she    spake),    "that    seems    to 


folic 


.7'* 


He  drew  her  closer  to  his  side  ; 

She  felt  his  lingering  kiss ; 

And  yet  a  shadow  seemed  to  glide 

Between  her  heart  and  his. 

And     What  is  that,  now  what  is  that,  oh  what  is  that," 

she  said 
(All  silent  to  herself  she  spake),  "that  minds  me  of  the 

dead?" 

They  wandered  back  ty  beds  oi  bloom  ; 
They  climbed  a  winding  stair; 
They  crossed  the  threshold  of  their  room ; 
But  Something  waited  there. 
Now  who  is  this,  and  what  is  this,  and  where  is  this," 

she  cried 
(All  silent  was  the  cry  she  made),  "that  comes  to  haunt 

and  hide? 

Wide-eyed  she  lay,  the  while  he  slept; 

She  could  not  name  her  fear. 

But  Something  from  her  bedside  crept 

Just  as  the  daw^n  drew^  near. 

(She    did   not    know,   she    could    not    know,    how   could 

she  know^  •who  came 
To  haunt  the  home  of  one  whose  hand,  had  dug  her 

grave  of  shame.) 


85 


IV  /T OTHER,  sit  do\vn.  for  I  have  much  to  say 
■^' -*■    Anent  this  wide-spread,  ever-growing  theme 
Of  Woman  and  her  virtues  and  her  rights. 

I  left  you  for  the  large,  loud  world  of  men. 

When  I  had  lived  one  little  score  of  years. 

I  judged  all  w^omen  by  you,  and  my  heart 

Was  filled  w^ith  high  esteem  and  reverence 

For  your  angelic  sex;  and  for  the  w^ives. 

The  sisters,  daughters,  mothers  of  my  friends 

I  held  but  holy  thoughts.      To  fallen  stars 

(Of  w^hom  you  told  me  in  our  last  sw^eet  talk. 

Warning  me  of  the  dangers  in  my  path) 

1  gave  Avide  pity  as  you  bade  me  to. 

Saying  their  sins  harked  back  to  my  base  sex. 

Now,  listen,  mother  mine:     Ten  years  have  passed 
Since  that  clean-minded  and  pure-bodied  youth. 
Thinking  to  write  his  name  upon  the  stars. 
Went  from  your  presence.      He  returns  to  you 
Fallen  from  his  high  altitude  of  thought. 
Hiding  deep  scars  of  sins  upon  his  soul. 
His  fair  illusions  shattered  and  destroyed. 
And  would  you  know  the  story  of  nis  fall? 


86 


ihe  boyisn  admiration  of  Kis  glance 
Was  white  as  April  sunlight  when  it  falls 
Upon  a  Dlooming  tree,  until  she  leaned 
So  close  her  rounded  body  sent  quick  thrills 
Along  his  nerves.      He  thought  it  accident 
And  moved  a  little;  soon  she  leaned  again. 
The  hali-hid  beauties  of  her  heaving  breast 
Rising  and  lalling  under  scented  lace  ; 
The  teasing  tendrils  oi  her  fragrant  hair. 
With  intermittent  touches  on  his  cheek. 
Changed  the  boy  s  interest  to  the  man  s  desire. 
She  saw  that  first  young  madness  in  his  eyes. 
Smiled,  and  fanned  the  flame.    That  was  his  fall; 
And  as  some  mangled  fly  may  crawl  away 
And  leave  his  wings  behind  him  xn  the  web. 
So  were  his  wings  of  faith  in  womanhood 
Left  in  the  meshes  of  her  sensuous  net. 

The  youth,  forced  into  sudden  manhood,  went 

Seeking  the  lost  ideal  of  his  dreams. 

He  met,  in  churches  and  in  draw^ing-rooms. 

Women  who  wore  the  mask  of  innocence 

And  basked  in  public  favor,  yet  ^vho  seemed 

To  rind  their  pleasure  playing  with  men  s  hearts, 

As  children  play  with  loaded  guns.      He  heard 

(Until  the  tale  fell  dull  upon  his  ears) 

The  unsolicited  complauits  of  wives 

And  mothers  all  unsatisfied  with  life 

While  crow^ned  with  every  blessing  earth  can  give, 

Longing  for  God  knows  what  to  bring  content; 

And  openly  or  \vith  appealing  look 

Asking  for  sympathy.       (The  first  blind  step 

That  leads  from  wifely  honor  down  to  shame 

Is  ofttimes  hid  with  flowers  of  sympathy.) 

He  saw  proud  w^omen  who  \vould  flush  and  pale 

With  sense  of  outraged  modesty    if  one 

Spoke  of  the  ancient  sin  before  them,  bare 

To  all  men  s  sight,  or  nimsily  conceal 

By  veils  that  bid  adventurous  eyes  proceed. 

Charms  meant  alone  for  lover  and  for  child. 

He  saw  chaste  virgins  tempt  and  tantalize. 

Lure  and  deny,  invite — and  then  refuse. 

And  drive  men  forth,  half  crazed,  to  %vantons  arms 

Mother,  you  taught  me  there  were  but  two  kinds 
Of  women  in  the  w^orld — the  good  and  bad. 
But  you  have  been  too  sheltered  in  the  safe. 
Old-fashioned  sweetness  of  your  quiet  life 
To  know  how  women  of  these  modern  days 
Make  license  of  their  new-found  liberty. 
Why]  1  have  been  more  tempted  and  more  shocked 
By  belles  and  beauties  in  the  social  whirl. 
By  trusted  w^ives  and  mothers  in  their  homes. 
Than  by  the  women  of  the  underworld 
Who  sell  their  favors.      Do  you  think  me  mad?- 
No,  mother;   I  am  sane,  but  very  sad. 
I  miss  my  boyhood  s  faith  in  Woman  s  w^orth — 
Torn  from  my  heart  by  "good  folks"  of  the  earth. 

87 


THE  WELL-BORN 


SO  many,  many  people — people  in  tKe  world  ; 
So  few  great  souls,  love  ordered,  well  begun. 
In  answer  to  tKe  fertile  mother  need. 
So  few^  w^no  seem 
TKe  image  of  tKe  Maker's  mortal  dream; 
So  many  born  of  mere  propinquity — 
Of  lustful  Kabit,  or  of  accident. 
TKeir  motKers  felt 

No  migKty  all-compelling  wisK  to  see 
TKeir  bosoms  garden-places 
Abloom  witK  flower  faces ; 

No  tidal  wave  swept  o  er  tKem  w^itK  its  flood ; 
No  tKrill  of  flesK  or  Keart ;  no  leap  of  blood  ; 
No  glowing  fire,  flaming  to  wKite  desire 
For  mating  and  for  motKerhood ; 
Yet  tKey  bore  children. 

God,  Kow^  mankind  misuses  tKy  command. 
To  populate  tKe  eartK. 
How  low  is  brougKt  KigK  birtK. 
How  low  tKe  w^oman  ;  w^Ken,  inert  as  spawn 
Left  on  tKe  sands  to  fertilise, 

SKe   is  tKe   means  tKrougK  wKicK   tKe  race   goes  on. 
Not  so  tKe  first  intent. 

BirtK,  as  tKe  Supreme  Mind  conceived  it,  meant 
TKe  clear,  imperious  call  of  mate  to  mate 
And  tKe  clear  answer.      Only  tKus  and  tKen 
Are  fine,   well-ordered   and   potential  lives 
BrougKt  into  being.      Not  by  CKurcK  or  State 
Can  birtK  be  made  legitimate. 
Unless 

Love  m  its  fulness  bless 
Creation  so  ordains  its  lofty  law^s 
TKat  man,  wKile  greater  in  all  otKer  tKmgs 
Is  lesser,  in  tKe  generative  cause. 
TKe  fatKer  may  be  merely  man,  tKe  male ; 
Yet  more  tKan  female  must  tKe  motKer  be. 
TKe  w^oman  avKo  w^ould  fasKion 
Souls,  for  tKe  use  of  eartK  and  angels  meet. 
Must   entertain   a   KigK   and   Koly  passion. 
Not  rank,  or  w^ealtK,  or  influence  of  kings 
Can  give  a  soul  its  dower 
Of  majesty  and  power. 
Unless   tKe    motKer   brings 
Great  love  to  tKat  great  Kour. 


68 


KIM 


KIM.  in  tnat  tender  canine  Keart  of  yours 
What  faithfulness  endures. 
What  sterling  qualities  of  loyal  friend 
And   fearless   comrade    blend. 
Making  you  strong  to  rescue  and  defend. 

In  you  we  find 

The  quick  perception  of  a  thinking  mind. 
Keen    understanding,    cheerfulness    and    tact. 
And  love  so  vast  it  permeates  each  act. 


Often  we  cannot  think  of  you  as  dumb. 
But  feel  that  speech  must  come 
From  that  too  silent  lip. 
Adding  the  last  touch  to  companionship. 


Lifting  your  shaggy  locks  and  looking  down 

Into  your  eyes  of  brow^n, 

bomethmg  I  see  that  makes  me  more  and  more 

Doubt  that  religious  lore. 

That  orthodox,  unyielding  lore,  which  gives 

No  spark  of  soul  to  anything  that  lives 

Save  biped  man.      Why  Kim  in  your  dear  eyes 

There  lies 

The  chief  foundation  of  man's   Paradise — - 

Unquestioning,   undoubting  love,   and  faith 

That  would  walk  bravely  through  the  gates  of  death. 

If  so  your  Master  or  your  Mistress  led. 

When   all  is  said 

It  IS  of  love  and  faith  we  build  our  Heaven — 

Dear  Kim 

I  cannot  question  that  you  will  be  given 

Your  green  celestial  lawn,  your  astral  sea. 

And  life  w^ith  him  and  me 

Yea,  life  w^ith  him  and  me. 

Since  we  to  you  are  what  God  is  to  us. 

And  oh!  to  love  God  thus! 

With  such  supreme  devotion  to  obey 

And  ask  no  reason  why;  by  night  or  day 

To  have  no  w^ill  or  choice. 

But  just  to  follow  the  Beloved  Voice. 

To  trust  implicitly — to  feel  no  fear 

Or  discontent  or  doubt  since  He  is  near. 

Let  me  look  deeper,  Kim,  in  your  dear  heart; 

Impart 

To  me  that  fulness  of  unquestioning  love 

That  I  may  give  my  God  thereof. 


89 


THE  PLOW  OF  GOD 

IF  you  listen  you  will  Kear,  from  east  to  w^est. 
Growing  sounds  of  discontent  and  deep  unrest. 
It   is   just   tKe    progress-driven    Plow   of   God, 
Tearing   up   tne   w^ell-w^orn,    custom-Dounded  sod, 
SKaping  out  eacK  old  tradition-trodden  track 
Into    furrows — fertile    furrows,    ncn    and    black. 
OK,  wKat  harvests  tKey  will  yield 
WKen  tKey  widen  to  a  field  ! 

TKey  will  widen,  tKey  will  broaden,  day  by  day. 
As  tKe  progress-driven  plow  keeps  on  its  way. 
It  will  riddle  all  tKe  ancient  roads  tKat  lead 
Into  places  of  selfisKness  and  greed. 
It  w^ill  tear  aw^ay  tKe  almsKouse  and  tKe  slum, 
TKat  tKe  little  Komes  and  garden-plots  may  come. 
Yes,  tKe  gardens  green  and  sweet 
SKall  replace  tKe  stony  street. 

Let  tKe  w^ise  men  Kear  tKe  menace  tKat  is  blent 
In  tKis  ever-grow^ing  sound  of  discontent. 
Let   Kim   Kear  tKe   rising  clamor  of  tKe   race 
TKat  tKe  few  sKall  yield  tKe  many  larger  space ; 
For  tKe  crucial  Kour  is  coming  w^Ken  tKe  soil 
Must  be  given  to,  or  taken  back,  by  Toil. 
OK,  tKat  migKty  Plow  of  God — 
Hear  it  breaking  tKrougK  tKe  sod ! 

THE  BED 

A  KarsK  and  Komely  monosyllable. 
Abrupt  and  musicless,  and  at  its  best 
An  inartistic  object  to  tKe  eye. 
Yet  in  tKis  brief  and  troubled  life  of  man 
How  full  of  majesty  tKe  part  it  plays! 
It  is  tKe  cradle  wKicK  receives  tKe  soul. 
Naked  and  wailing,  from  tKe  Maker's  Kand. 
It  IS  tKe  tKrone  of  Love  s  enligKtenment ; 
And  wKen  deatK  offers  back  to  God  again 
TKe  borrowed  spirit,  tKis  tKe  Koly  sKrine 
From  wKicK  tKe  Kills  delectable  are  seen. 
TKrougK   all  tKe   anxious  journey  to  tKat   goal 
It  is  man's  friend,   pKysician,   comforter. 
WKen  labor  wearies,  and  wKen  pleasure  palls. 
And  tKe  tired  Keart  lets  faitK  slip  from  its  grasp, 
Tis   Kere   new^   courage   and   new   strengtK    are   found, 
WKile  doubt  and  darkness  cKange  to  Kope   and  ligKt. 
It  is  tKe  common  ground  between  two  spKeres 
WKere  men  and  angels  meet  and  converse  Kold. 
It  IS  tKe  confidant  of  Kidden  woe 

Masked    from    tKe    world    beneatK    a    smiling    brow. 
Into  its  silent  breast  young  w^akeful  joy 
WKispers  its  secret  tKrougK  tKe  starlit  Kours, 
And,  like  a  wKite-robed  priestess,  oft  it  bears 
TKe  wild  confession  of  a  crime-stained  soul 
TKat  looks  unflincKing  in  tKe  eyes  of  men. 
A  common  w^ord,   a  tKing  unbeautiful. 
Yet  in  tKis  brief,  eventful  life  of  man 
How  large  and  varied  is  tKe  part  it  plays! 

90 


WHAT  HAVE  YOU  DONE? 


WHAT  have  you  done,  and  wKat  are  you  doing 
witK  life,  O  Man? 
O  Average  Man  of  tKe  world — 
Average  Man  of  tKe  Christian  world  we  call 
civilized? 
What  Have  you  done  to  pay  for  tKe  labor  pains  of  tKe 

motKer    w^Ko    bore    you? 
On  eartK  you  occupy  space  ;  you  consume  oxygen  from 

tKe  air; 
And  wKat  do  you  give  in  return  for  tKese  tKings? 
WKo  IS  better  tKat  you  live,  and  strive,  and  toil? 
Or  tKat  you  live  tKrougK  tKe  toiling  and  striving  of  otK- 

ers? 
As  you  pass  down  tKe  street  does  any  one  look  on  you 
and  say, 
TKere  goes  a  good  son,  a  true  Kusband,  a  wise  fatKer, 
a  fine  citizen? 
A  man  wKose  strong  Kand  is  ready  to  Kelp  a  neigKbor, 
A   man  to   trust?         And   wKat  do  women   say  of  you? 
Unto  tKeir  own  souls  v^'Kat  do  w^omen  say? 
Do    tKey    say:    "He    Kelped    to    make    tKe    road    easier 

for  tired  feet? 
To  broaden  tKe  narrow  Korizon  for  acKing  eyes? 
He  Kelped  us  to  KigKer  ideals  of  w^omanKood?" 
Look  into  your  own  Keart  and  answer,  O  Average  Man 

of  tKe  world. 
Of  tKe  CKristian  ^vorld  we  call  civilized. 

II 

WKat  do  men  tKink  of  you,  wKat  do  tKey  tKink  and  say 
of  you, 

O  Average  Woman  of  tKe  w^orld? 

Do  tKey  say :      TKere  is  a  woman  witK  a  great  Keart, 

Loyal  to  Ker  sex,  and  above  envy  and  evil  speaking; 

TKere  is  a  daugKter,  wife,  motKer,  witK  a  purpose  in 
life; 

SKe  can  be  trusted  to  mould  tKe  minds  of  little  cKildren  ; 

SKe  knows  Kow  to  be  good  witKout  being  dull ; 

How  to  be  glad  and  to  make  otKers  glad  witKout  de- 
scending  to   folly ; 

SKe  IS  one  wKo  illuminates  tKe  patK  wKerein  sKe  walks  ; 

One  wKo  awakens  tKe  best  in  every  Kuman  being  sKe 
meets    ? 


Look  into  your  Keart,  O  Woman !  and 


answer 


tKis 


WKat  are  you  doing  witK  tKe  beautiful  years? 
Is  your  today  a  better  tKing  tKan  was  your  yesterday? 
Have  you  grown  in  knowledge,  grace,  and  usefulness? 
Or  are  you  ravelling  out  tKe  wonderful  fabric  knit  by 

Time, 
And  tKrow^ing  aw^ay  tKe  tKreads? 
Make    answer,    O    Woman!    Average    Woman    of    tKe 

Christian  world. 


91 


THE  GHOSTS 


:^ 

■;^  iv^r"""^ 


*"  I  'HERE   was    no   winci,   and   yet   tKe   air 

Seemed   suddenly   astir: 
TKere  were  no  forms,  and  yet  all  space 

Seemed  thronged  ■witK   growing  hosts. 
Tliey   came   Irom   WKere    and    from   Nowhere, 

Like    phantoms    as    they   were. 
They  came   from   many   a  land   and   place — 
The   ghosts,   the   ghosts,   the   ghosts. 

And  some  were  white  and  some  were  gray 

And  some  were  red  as  blood — 
Those  ghosts  of  men  who  met  their  death 

Upon   the   field   of   war. 
Against   the    skies   of   fading   day. 

Like  tanks  of  clouds  they   stood; 
And   each   wraith   asked   another  wraith. 
*'  What   were   we    fighting   for? 

One  said.     *  I  was  my  mother  s  all; 

And  she  was  old   and    blind. 
Another,  "  Back  on  earth,  my  wife 

And    week-old    baby   lie. 
Another.   "At  the   bugle's  call, 

I  left  my  bride  behind; 
Love   made   so   beautiful   my  life, 
1   could   not   bear   to   die. 

In  voices  like  the  winds  that  moan 

Amorrg  pine  tree*  at   night. 
They  whispered  long,  the  newly  dead. 

While    listening    stars    came    out. 
'*  We  wonder  if  the  cause  is  known. 

And  if  the  war  was  right. 
That    killed    us   in   our   prime,  '    they    said. 
And  what  it  was  about. 

They   came    in    throngs   that    filled    all    space- 
Those    whispering    phantom    hosts. 

They   came   from   many   a   land   and   place  — 
The   ghosts,  the  ghosts,  the  ghosts. 


'';^^lS^.yi' 


THE  UNWED  MOTHER 
TO  THE  WIFE 


I  HAD  been  almost  Kappy  for  an  hour. 
Lost  to  tKe  world  that  knew  me  in  tKe  park 
Among  strange  faces  ;  wKile  my  little  girl 
Leaped  w^itK  tKe  squirrels,  cnirruped  w^ith  the  birds. 
And  witb  the  sunligKt  glowed.      She  was  so  dear. 
So  beautiful,  so  sweet ;  and  for  the  time 
The  rose  of  love,  shorn  of  its  thorn  of  shame. 
Bloomed  in  my  heart.      Then  suddenly  you  passed. 
I  sat  alone  upon  the  public  bench  ; 
You,  w^ith  your  law^ful  husband,  rode  in  state  : 
And  when  your  eyes  fell  on  me  and  my  child. 
They  were  not  eyes,   but  daggers,  poison  tipped. 

God !  how^  good  w^omen  slaughter  with  a  look ! 
And,  like  cold  steel,  your  glance  cut  through  my  heart 
Struck  every  petal  from  the  rose  of  love 
And  left  the  ragged  stalk  alive  with  thorns. 

My  little  one  came  running  to  my  side 
And  called  me  Mother.      It  was  like  a  blow 
Between  the  eyes ;  and  made  me  sick  w^ith  pain. 
And  then  it  seemed  as  if  each  bird  and  breeze 
Took  up  the  word,  and  changed  its  syllables 
From  Mother  into  Magdalene ;  and  cried 
My  shame  to  all  the  w^orld. 

It  w^as  your  eyes 
Which  did  all  this.      But  listen  now  to  me 
(Not  you  alone,  but  all  the  barren  wives 
Who,  like  you,  flaunt  their  virtue  in  the  face 
Of  fallen  women)  :  I  Ao  chance  to  know 
The  crimes  you  think  are  hidden  from   all   men — 
(Save  one  w^ho  took  your  gold  and  sold  his  skill 
And  jeopardized  his  name  for  your  base  ends.) 


il 


I  know  how  you  have  sunk  your  soui  in  sense 

Like  any  wanton  ;  and  refused  to  bear 

The  harvest  of  your  pleasure-planted  seed ; 

I  know^  how  you  have  crushed  the  tender  bud 

Which  held  a  soul ;  how  you  have  blighted  it ; 

And  made  the  holy  miracle  of  birth 

A   w^icked    travesty  of   God  s   design. 

Yea,  many  buds,  which  might  be  blossoms  now 

And  beautify  your  selfish,  and  life. 

Have  been  destroyed,  because  you  chose  to  keep 

The  aimless  freedom  and  the  purposeless 

Self-seeking  liberty  of  childless  wives. 

I  was  an  untaught  girl.      By  nature  led. 
By  love  and  passion  blinded,  I  became 
An  unwed  mother.      You,  an  honored  wife. 
Refuse  the  crow^n  of  motherhood,  defy 
The  laws  of  nature,  and  fling  baby  souls 


94 


Back  in  tKe  face  of  God.      And  yet  you  dare 
Call  me  a  sinner,  and  yourself  a  saint; 
And  all  the  \vorld  smiles  on  you,  and  its  doors 
Swing  >vide  at  your  approach. 

I    stand    outside. 

Surely  there  must  be  higher  courts  than  earth. 
Where  you  and  I  will  some  day  meet  and  be 
Weighed  by  a  larger  justice. 


HERESY 

Nothing  within  me  responds  to  the  story  of  Adam  and 

Eve ; 
And  Genesis  seems  like  a  tale  not  meant  for  the  w^orld 

to  believe : 
Yet  w^hen  I  wake  in  the  dawn,  if  the  skies  are  gray  or 

gold. 
The  love,  the  love  in  the  heart  of  me,  for  God,  can  never 

be  told. 

Jesus  to  me  is  a  man  who  lived  the  life  divine ; 

And  I  think  of  his  birth  as  a  human  birth,  just  like  yours 

and  mine  ! 
But  the  love  down  deep  in  my  heart,   that  is  sweeter 

than  any  other. 
Is  the  great  uplifting,  tender  love  I  give  to  Christ,  my 

brother. 

I  know  at  times  I  have  erred,  as  all  who  are  mortal  will ; 
By  doing  the  wrong  thing  well,  or  doing  the  right  thing 

ill: 
But  nobody  else  can  atone  for  the  paths  my  feet  have 

trod; 
And  I  know,  I  know^  by  the  love  in  my  heart,  I  can  make 

it  right  with  God. 

The  world  has  a  thousand  creeds,  and  never  a  one 
have  I ; 

Nor  church  of  my  own,  though  a  million  spires  are  point- 
ing the  way  on  high. 

But  1  float  on  the  bosom  of  faith  that  bears  me  along 
like  a  river ; 

And  the  lamp  of  my  soul  is  alight  >vith  love,  for  life, 
and  the  world,  and  the  Giver. 

I  know^  how  brief  is  my  span,  and  I  know  how^  certain 

is  death  ; 
And   1   send   out   a   prayer   of  love    and   trust   with    the 

breathing  of  every  breath ; 
And  heretic  though  I  am    outside  of  the  pale  of  creeds, 
I  have  love  in  my  heart  for  God  and  man — and  I  think 

it  is  all  one  needs. 


95 


^eace 


MUSING  upon  tKe  tragedies  of  eartn. 
Of  eacK  new  horror  whicK  each  Kour  ^fives  birth 
Of  sins  that   scar  and   cruelties  that   bhght 
Life's  little   season,   meant  for  man  s  delight, 
Methought  those   monstrous  and   repellent  crimes 
Which  hate  engenders  m  war-heated  times. 
To  God's  great  heart  bring  not  so  much  despair 
As  other  sins  which  flourish  everywhere 
And  in  all  times — bold  sins,  bare-faced  and  proua. 
Unchecked  by  college,  and  by  Church  allowed. 
Lifting  their  lusty  heads  like  ugly  weeds 
Above  wise  precepts  and  religious  creeds. 
And  growing  rank  in  prosperous  days  of  peace 
Think  you  the  evils  of  this  world  would  cease 
With  war's  cessation? 

If  God  s  eyes  know  tears, 
Methinks  he  weeps  more  for  the  wasted  years 
And  the  lost  meaning  of  this  earthly  life — 
This  big,  brief  life — than  over  bloody  strife. 
Yea;   there  are  mean,  lean  sins  God  must  abhor 
More  than  the  fatted,  blood-drunk  monster.  War 


Looking  from  his  place,  looking  from  his  high  place  among 
the  stars.  God  saw  a  peaceful  land — 

A  land  of  fertile  fields  and  golden  harvests — and  great  cities 
whose  innumerable  spires  pierced  the  vault  of  heaven, 
like   bay.onets  of  an  invading  army. 

And  God  said,  speaking  unto  himself  aloud.  God  said: 
Peace    and    power   and    plenty    have   I    given   unto   this   land  ; 
and  those  tall  steeples  are  monuments  to  me. 

Now  let  my  people  reveal  themselves,  that  I  may  see  their 
works,  done  in  my  name  in  a  fertile  land  of  peace. 

I  will  withdraw  mine  eyes  from  other  worlds  that  I  may  be- 
hold them,  that  I  may  behold  these  people  to  whom  I  sent 
Christ — ^they  -whose  innumerable  spires  pierce  my  blue 
vault  like   bayonets. 

God  saw  the  restless,  idle  rich  in  club  and  cabaret. 
Meat-gorged,     -wine-filled,     they     played     and     preened     and 

danced  till  dawn  o    day  ; 
They   played    at    sports;   they    played  at  love;   they  played   at 

being   gay.  ' 
They  w^ere  but  empty,  silk-clad  shells;    their  souls  had  leaked 

away. 
He   saw   the    sweat-shop   and   the   mill   where    little    children 

toiled. 
The   sunless  rooms  where   mothers   slaved   and  unborn   souls 

were  spoiled  ; 
While  those  whose  greedy,  selfish  lives  had  thrust  the  toilers 

there. 
He  saw  whirled  down  broad  avenues,  clothed  all  witK.raiment 

fair. 

96 


*»- 


He  saw  m  Komes  made  beautiful  with  all  that  ^old  can  givs 
Unhappy  souls  at  odds  witK  life,  not  knowing  Kow  to  live, 
ne  saw  lair,  pampered  women  turn  from  motherhood's  sweet 
joy. 

Obsessed  with  methods  to  prevent  or  mania  to  destroy. 
rte    saw   men  sell  the.r  souls  to  vice  and  avarice   and    greed; 
ne  heard  race  quarreling  with  race  and  creed  decrying  creed. 
And  shamefu    wealth  and  waste  he  saw,  and    shameful  want 
and   need. 

He   saw   bold   little   children   come    from    church    and    school- 

room,    bhnd 
To  suffering  of  lesser  things,  unfeeling  and  unkind  ; 
ne   heard    theni    taunt   the    poor,    and    tease   their   furred    and 

leathered   kin; 

And  no  voice  spake  from  home  or  church,  to  tell  them  this  was 
sin. 

He    heard    the    cry    of    wounded    things,    the    wasteful    gun's 
ff .,  J|  report ; 

^       He  saw  the  morbid  craze  to  kill,  which  Christian   men  called 
sport. 

And  then  God  hid  his  grieving  face  behind  a  wall  of  cloud. 
Un  earth  they  said,   "A  thunder-storm"- but  God  had  wept 
aloud. 


INTERLUDE 


THE  days  grow  shorter,  tKe  nigKts  grow  longer , 
TKe  headstones  thicken   along  the  way; 
And  life  grows  sadder  but  love  grows  stronger 
For  those  who  walk  with  us,  day  by  day. 

The  tear  comes  quicker,  the  laugh  comes  slower. 
The  courage  is  lesser  to  do  and  dare  : 
And  the  tide  of  joy  in  the  heart  runs  lower 
And  seldom  covers  the  reefs  of  care. 

But  all  true  things  in  the  world  seem  truer. 
And  the  better  things  of  the  earth  seem  best; 
And  friends  are  dearer  as  friends  are  fewer. 
And  love  is  all  as  our  sun  dips  west. 

Then  let  us  clasp  hands  as  we  walk  together. 
And  let  us  speak  softly,  in  love's  sweet  tone; 
For  no  man  knows,  on  the  morrow,  whether 
We  two  pass  by,  or  but  one  alone. 


A  SONG  OF  FAITH 

My  glass  of  life  with  its  brew  of  Being, 

I  lift,  with  a  toast,  to  the  Universe. 

Though  black  guns  bellow  and  mad  men  curse 

And  a  sick  w^orld  hurries  from  bad  to  worse 

I  trust  in  the  might  of  the  One  All  Seeing — 

The  One  All  Knowing,  to  set  things  right. 

Though  hate  in  the  heart  of  the  race  may  thunder. 

In  rifle  and  cannon  and  bursting  shell. 

And  the  sea  and  the  air  their  tales  may  tell. 

Of  the  minds  of  mortals  that  seethe  with  hell, — 

Yet  in  God's  vast  plan  there  can  be  no  blunder — - 

He  is  blazing  the  trail  for  the  Super-man. 

The  creeds  of  ages  may  totter  and  tumble. 

And  fall  in  ruins,  but  out  of  the  dust. 

And  out  of  the  wreckage  of  old  things,  must 

Rise    better  religion,   and   stronger  trust. 

And  faith  that  knows,  and  knowing  is  humble. 

(Humility  ever  with  knowledge  goes.) 

This  speck  in  space  on  its  orbit  spinning. 

Swings  safely  along  without  aid  from  me, 

A  Mind  that  can  order,  an  Eye  that  can  see. 

Back  of,  and  over  it  all  must  be — 

And  w^ill  be — and  w^as  from  the  first  beginning. 

Not  mine  to  question  or  doubt  the  Cause. 


98 


But  mine  to  worsKip  the  MigKty  Master 
And  Maker  of  all  tKings ;  mine  to  raise 
Ever  an  antnem  oi  love  and  praise 
In  tKe  li^ht  OI  tKe  sun  or  in  shadow^ed  ways, — ■ 
^     In  tKe  world  s  bright  hour,  or  in  w^orld  disaster. 
To  see  His  glory  and  sing  His  power. 

So  my  glass  oi  life  w^ith  its  orew^  of  Being 

I  lift,  w^ith  a  song  of  the  One  All  Seeing — 

Of  the  One  All  Know^ing ;  though  earth  seems  hurled 

Out  into  chaos,  I  see  it  lying 

In  God's  great  palm — and  my  faith  undying 

Cries,     Lo !  He  is  moulding  a  better  w^orld. 


THE  SPUR 

I  asked  a  rock  beside  the  road 

What  joy  existence  lent. 
It  answ^ered.      For  a  million  years 

My  heart  has  been  content. 

I    asked   the    truifle-seeking   sw^ine,    as   rooting   by   he 
w^ent. 
What  is  the  keynote  of  your  life?"  He  grunted  out, 
Ljontent. 

I   asked   a   slave,   w^ho  toiled   and   sang,  just  w^hat  his 

singing  meant. 
He  plodded  on  his  changeless  way,   and   said,      1  am 

content. 

I    asked    a    plutocrat    of    greed,    on    w^hat    his    thoughts 

w^ere  bent. 
He   chinked   the   silver  in   his   purse,   and   said        I   am 

content. 

I  asked  the  mighty  forest  tree  from  w^hence  its  force 

w^as  sent. 
Its  thousand  branches  spoke  as  one,  and  said,  "From 

discontent. 

I  asked  the  message  speeding  on,  by  what  great  law^ 

^vas  rent 
God  s  secret  from  the  w^aves  of  space.      It  said.     From 

discontent. 

I  asked  the  marble,  w^here  the  w^orks  of  God  and  man 

were  blent. 
What  brought  the  statue  from  the  block.      It  answered. 
Discontent. 

I    asked    an   Angel,    looking   down   on   earth   w^ith    gaze 

intent, 
How^    man    should    rise    to    larger  growth.       Quoth    he. 
Through  discontent. 


99 


MEDITATIONS 


His. 

I   WAS  so  proud  of  you  last  nignt,  dear  ^irl. 
While  man  witn  man  was  striving  for  your  smile. 
You  never  lost  your  neaa,  nor  once  aroppea  down 
From  your  nign  place 
As  queen  m  that  gay  w^nirl. 

(It  takes  more  poise  to  w^ear  a  little  crow^n 

WitK   modesty  and   grace 

Tkan  to  adorn  tKe  lordlier  thrones  of  eartn.) 


You  seem  so  free  from  artifice  and  wile ; 

And   in  your  eyes  I  read 

Encouragement  to  my  unspoken  tnougnt. 

My  heart  is  eloquent  with  w^ords  to  plead 

Its  cause  of  passion  ;  but  my  questioning  mind, 

Know^mg  how^  love  is  blind. 

Dwells  on  the  pros  and  cons,  and  God  know^s  what. 

My  heart  cries  w^ith  each  beat. 

She  IS  so  beautiful,  so  pure,  so  sweet. 
So  more  than  dear. 
And  then  I  hear 

The  voice  of  Reason,  asking:      Would  she  meet 
Life  s   common   duties  ^vlth   good   common   sense? 

Could  she  bear  quiet  evenings  at  your  hearth 
And  not  be  sighing  for  gay  scenes  of  mirth? 
If,  some  great  day,  love  s  mighty  recompense 
For  chastity  surrendered  came  to  her. 
If  she  felt  stir 

Beneath  her  heart  a  little  pulse  of  life. 
Would  she  rejoice  with  holy  pride  and  w^onder 
And  rind  new  glory  in  the  name  of  wife? 
Or  w^ould  she  plot  w^ith  hell,  and  seek  to  plunder 
Love  s   sanctuary,    and   cast  aw^ay  its  treasure. 
That  she  might  keep  her  freedom  and  her  pleasure; 
Could  she  be  loyal  mate  and  mother  dutiful? 
Or  IS  she  only  some   bright  hothouse   bloom. 
Seedless   and   beautiful. 

Meant  just  for  decoration,  and  for  show^? 
Alone  here  in  my  room, 

I  hear  this  voice  of  Reason.      My  poor  heart 
Has  ever  but  one  answer  to  impart, 
I  love  her  so. 

Hers. 

After  the  ball  last  night,  when  I  came  home 
I  stood  before  my  mirror,  and  took  note 
Of  all  that  men  call  beautiful.      Delight, 
Keen,  sweet  delight,  possessed  me,  w^hen  I  saw 


100 


My  own  reflection  smiling  on  me  there. 

Because  your  eyes,  througn  all  the  swirling  hours. 

And  in  your  slow  good-night,  had  made  a  fact 

Of  what  before  I  fancied  might  he  so; 

Yet  know^ing  ho\v  men  lie    by  look  and  act, 

I  still  had  doubted        But  I  doubt  no  more, 

1  know  you  love  me,  love  me.      And  I  feel 

Your  satisfaction  in  my  comeliness. 

Beauty  and  youth,  good  health  and  >villing  mind, 
A   spotless   reputation,   and   a   heart 
Longing  for  mating  and  for  motherhood. 
And  lips  unsullied  by  another  s  kiss — 
These  are  the  riches  I  can  bring  to  you. 

But  as  I  sit  here,  thinking  of  it  all 

In  the  clear  light  of  morning,  sudden  fear 

Has    seized    upon    me.      What   has    been   your    past; 

From  out  the  jungle  of  old  reckless  years. 

May  serpents  craw^l  across  our  path  some  day 

And  pierce  us  w^ith  their  fangs?      Oh,  I  am  not 

A  prude  or  bigot;  but  I  have  not  lived 

A  score  and  three  full  years  in  ignorance 

Of  human  nature.      Much  I  can  condone ; 

For  w^ell  I  know^  our  kinship  to  the  earth 

And   all  created   things.      Why,  even  I 

Have  felt  the   burden  of  virginity. 

When  flow^ers  and   birds  and  golden  butterflies 

In  early  spring  w^ere  mating;  and  I  know^ 

How^  loud  that  call  of  sex  must  sound  to  man 

Above  the  feeble  protest  of  the  w^orld. 

But  I  can  hear  from  depths  within  my  soul 

The  voices  of  my  unborn  children  cry 

For  rightful  heritage.      (May  God  attune 

The  souls  of  men,  that  they  may  hear  and  heed 

That  plaintive  voice  above  the  call  of  sex ; 

And  may  the  world's  weak  protest  swell  into 

A  thunderous  diapason — a  demand 

For   cleaner  fatherhood  ) 

Oh,  love,  come  near; 
Look  in  my  eyes,  and  say  I  need  not  fear. 


TRUE  CHARITY 

I  gave  a  beggar  from  my  little  store 
Of  well  earned  gold.      He  spent  the  shining  ore 
And  came  again,  and  yet  again,  still  cold 
And  hungry  as  before. 

I  have  a  thought,  and  through  that  thought  of  mine 
He  found  himself,   the  man,   supreme,   divine! 
Fed,   clothed,   and  crowned  with   blessings  manifold 
And  now  he  begs   no  more 


101 


A  GOOD   SPOR^T 


I 


WAS  a  little  lad,  and  tne  older  boys  called  to  me  from  tne 

pier. 
Tney  called  to  me:  "Be  a  sport;    be  a  sport!    Leap  in  and 
swim  ! 
I  leaped  in  and  s\vam,  tnougb  I  had  never  been  taugnt  a  stroke. 
Then  I  \vas  made  a  hero,  and  they  all  shouted  :      'Well  done  ! 

Well  done. 
Brave  boy;  you  are  a  sport,  a  good  sport'" 
And  I  was  very  glad. 

But  now  I  wish  I  had  learned  to  sw^im  the  right  way. 

Or  had  never  learned  at  all. 
Now  I  regret  that  day. 

For  it  led  me  to  my  fall. 

I  was  a  youth,  and  I  heard  the  older  men  talking  of  the  road 

to  wealth. 
They  talked  of  bulls  and  bears,  of  buying  on  margins. 
And  they  said:       Be  a  sport,  my  boy;  plunge  in  and  win,  or 

lose  it  all ! 
It  IS  the  only  w^ay  to  fortune." 
bo  1  plunged   in  and   won  ;     and   the  older  men  patted   me  on 

the  ba^k. 
And  they  said.      You  are  a  sport,  my  boy,  a  good  sport! 
And  I  was  very  glad 

102 


But  now  I  wisK  I  Kad  lost  all  I  ventured  on  tKat  day — 

Yes,  ■wxsk  1  kad  lost  it  all: 
For  it  was  tke  wrong  way. 

And  pusned  me  to  my  fall. 

I  was  a  young  man,  and  tke  gay  world  called  me  to  come. 
Gay  women  and  gay  men  called  to  me,  crying:    "Be  a  sport: 

be  a  good  sport ! 
Fill  our  glasses  and  let  us  fill  yours. 
We  are  young  but  once;    let  us  dance  and  smg. 
And  drive  tke  dull  kours  of  nigkt  until  tkey  stand  at  bay 
Against  tke  skining  bayonets  of  day." 

So  I  filled  my  glass,  and  I  filled  tkeir  glasses  over  and  over  again. 
An4  I  sang  and  danced  and  drank,  and  drank  and  danced  and 

sang. 
And  I  keard  tkem  cry,  "He  is  a  sport,  a  good  sport!" 
As  tkey  keld  tkeir  glasses  out  to  be  filled  again. 
And  I  was  very  glad. 

Oh,  the  madness  of  youth  and  song  and  dance  and  wine, 

Of  tooman's  eyes  and   lips,  tchen  the  night  dies  in  the  arms  of  darvnl 

And    now    I    wisk    I    kad    not    gone    tkat    way. 
Now  I  wisk  1  kad  not  keard  tkem  say. 
'He  IS  a  sport,  a  good  sport!" 
For  I  am  old  ^vko  skould  be  young. 
Tke  splendid  vigor  of  my  youtk  I  flung 
Under  tke  feet  of  a   mad,   untkinking  tkrong. 
My   strengtk   went  out   witk   wine   and   dance   and   song: 
Unto  tke  winds  of  eartk  I  tossed  like  ckaff, 
Witk    idle    jest    and    laugk, 

Tke  pride  of  splendid  mankood,  all  its  wealtk 
Of  unused   po^ve^  and  kealtk; 
Its  dream  of  looking  in  some  pure  girls  eyes 
And  finding  tkere  its  eartkly   paradise; 
Its  kope  of  virile  ckildren  free  from   bligkt: 
Its  tkougkts  of  climbing  to  some  noble  keigkt 
Of  great  ackievement — all  tkese  gifts  divine 
I  cast  a^vay  for  song  and  dance  and  wine. 
Ok,  I  kave  been  a  sport,  a  good  sport; 
But   I    am    very    sad. 


103 


•A  BACHELOR  TO  A 
MARRIED  FLIRT 


ALL  tKat  a  man  can  say  of  ^voman  s  cnarms. 
Mine  eyes  Have  spoken  and  my  lips  nave  told 
To  you  a  thousand  times.    Your  perfect  arms, 
(A  replica  from   tliat  lost  Melos   mould) 
TKe  fair,  firm  crescents  of  your  bosom  (snown 
Witk  full  intent  to  make  tKeir  splendors  know^n.) 


ith 


tKeir  guile). 


Your  eyes  (that  mask  with  innocence 

The  (artful)  artlessness  of  all  your  ways. 

Your   kiss-provoking  mouth,   its  lure,  its  smile. 

All  these  have  had  my  fond  and  frequent  praise. 

And  something  more  than  praise  to  you  I  gave — - 

Something  which  made  you  know^  me  as  your  slave. 

Yet  slaves  at  times  grow^  mutinous,  and  rebel. 

Here  in  this  morning  hour  from  you  apart 

The  mood  is  on  me  to  be  frank  and  tell 

The  thoughts  long  hidden  deep  down  in  my  heart: 

These  thoughts  are  bitter  thorny  plants,  that  grew 

Below  the  flowers  of  praise  I  plucked  for  you. 

Those  flowery  praises,  led  you  to  suppose 

You   were    my   benefactor.      Well,    in   truth 

When  lovely  woman  on  dull  man  bestows 

Sw^eet  favors  of  her  beauty  and  her  youth. 

He  IS  her  debtor.      I  am  yours ;  and  yet 

You  robbed  me  while  you  placed  me  thus  in  debt. 

I  owe  you  for  keen  moments  w^hen  you  stirred 
My  senses  with  your  beauty ;  when  your  eyes, 
(Your  wanton  eyes)  belied  the  prudent  word 
Your    curled    lips    uttered.      You    are    worldly   wise 
And  while  you  like  to  set  men's  hearts  on  flame 
You  take  no  risks  in  that  old  passion  game. 

The  carnal,  common  self  of  dual  me. 

Found  pleasure  in  this  danger  play  of  yours. 

(An  egotist    man  always  thinks  to  be 

The  victor  if  his  patience  but  endures. 

And  holds  in  leash  the  bounds  of  fierce  desire. 

Until  the  silly  woman's  heart  takes  fire.) 

But  now  it  is  the  Higher  Self  who  speaks : 
The  Me  of  me — the  inner  man — the  real — 
Who  ever  dreams  his  dream  and  ever  seeks 
To  bring  to  earth  his  beautiful  ideal. 
That  life-long  dream  with  all  its  promised  joy 
Your  soft  bedevilments  have  helped  destroy. 


104 


I  spoke  a  little,  and  he  listened  mucn  ; 

Tnere  was  attention  in  his  eyes,  and  such 

A  note  of  comradesnip  in  nis  low  tone, 

I  lelt  no  more  alone. 

Tnere  w^as  a  kindly  interest  in  his  air ; 

He  spoke  about  the  w^ay  I  dressed  my  hair. 

And  praised  the  go\vn  I  ^vore. 

It  seemed  a  thousand,  thousand  years  and  more 

Since  1  had  been  so  noticed.      Had  mine  ear 

Been  used  to  compliments  year  after  year. 

If  I  had  heard  you  speak 

As  tnis  man  spoke,  I  had  not  been  so  w^eak. 

Tne  innocent  beginning 

Of  all  my  sinning 

Was  just  tne  w^oman  s  craving  to  be  brought 

Into  the  inner  shrine  of  some  man  s  thought. 

You  held  me  there,  as  sweetheart  and  as  bride  ; 

And  then  as  vi^ife,  you  left  me  far  outside. 

So  far,  so  far,  you  could  not  hear  me  call ; 

You  might,  you  should,   have  saved  me  from  my  fall. 

I  w^as  not  bad,  just  lonely,  that  w^as  all. 

A  man  should  offer  something  to  replace 
The  sweet  adventure  of  the  lover  s  chase 
Which  ends  \vith  marriage.  Love  s  neglected  la\vs 
Pave  pathways  for  the      Statutory  Cause. 


THE  MEN-MADE  GODS 


Said  the  Kaiser  s  god  to  the  god  of  the  Czar: 

Hark,  hark,  how^  my  people  pray. 
Their  faith,  methinks,  is  greater  by  far 
Than  all  the  faiths  of  the  others  are  ; 
They  know^  I  w^ill  help  them  slay. 

Said  the  god  of  the  Czar :  My  people  call 
In  a  medley  of  tongues  ;  they  know^ 

I  w^iU  lend  my  strength  to  them  one  and  all. 

Wherever  they  fight  their  foes  shall  fall 
Like  grass  w^here  the  mow^ers  go. 

Then  the  god  of  the  Gauls  spoke  out  of  a  cloud 

To  the  god  of  the  king  nearby ; 
Our  people  pray,  tho    they  pray  not  loud  ; 
They  ask  for  courage  to  slaughter  a  crowd. 

And  to  laugh,  tho    themselves  may  die. 

And  far  out  into  the  heart  of  space 

Where  a  lonely  pathw^ay  crept 
Up  over  the  stars,  to  a  secret  place. 
Where  no  light  shone  but  the  light  of  His  face, 

Christ  covered  his  eyes  and  wept. 


109 


THE  BIRTH  OF  JEALOUSY 


WITH  brooding  mien  and  sultry  eyes. 
Outside  the  gates  of  Paradise 
Eve  sat,  and  fed  tKe  faggot  flame 
TKat  lit  tKe  path  whence  Adam  came. 
(Strange  are  the  workings  of  a  w^oman  s  mind.) 

His   giant  shade   preceded  him. 

Along  the  pathw^ay  green,   and  dim ; 

She  heard  his  sw^ift  approaching  tread. 

But  still  she  sat  w^ith  drooping  head. 

(Dark  are  the  jungles  of  unhappy  thought.) 

He  kissed  her  mouth,  and  gazed  within 
Her   troubled    eyes ;   for   since    their   sin. 
His  love  had  grow^n  a  thousand  fold. 
But  Eve  drew^  back;  her  face  w^as  cold. 
(Oh,  who  can  read  the  cipher  of  a  soul!) 

Now^  art  thou  mourning  still,   sw^eet  w^ife. 
Spake  Adam  tenderly,      the  life 
Of  our  lost  Eden?      Why,   in  thee 
All  Paradise  remains  for  me. 
(Deep,  deep  the  currents  in  a  strong  man  s  heart.) 

Thus  Eve  :  "Nay,  not  lost  Eden  s  bliss 

I  mourn  •  for  heavier  w^oe  than  this 

Wears  on  me  w^ith  one  thought  accursed. 

In  Adam  s  life  I  am  not  nrst. 

(O,   woman's   mind !   what  hells   are   fashioned   there.) 

The  serpent  w^hispered  Lilith  s  name : 
(  Tw^as  thus  he  drove  me  to  my  shame) 
Pluck  yonder  fruit,    he  said,    and  know^, 
How^  Adam  loved  her,  long  ago. 
(Fools,  fools,  who  w^ander  searching  after  pain.) 

I  ate,  and  like  an  ancient  scroll, 
I  saw^  that  other  life  unroll ; 
I  saw  thee,  Adam,  far  from  here 
With  Lilith  on  a  ^vondrous  sphere. 
(Bold,  bold,  the  daring  of  a  jealous  heart.) 

Nay,  tell  me  not  I  dreamed  it  all ; 
Last  night  m  sleep  thou  didst  let  fall 
Her  name  in  tenderness  ;  I   bow^ed 
My    stricken    head    and    cried    aloud. 
(Vast,  vast  the  torment  of  a  self-made  woe.) 

And  it  was  then,  and  not  before. 
That  Eden  shut  and   barred   its  door. 
Alone  m  God  s  great  world  I  seemed. 
Whilst  thou  of  thy  lost  Lilith  dreamed. 
(Oh,  who  can  measure  such  wide  loneliness.) 


no 


Now  every  little   breeze  tKat  sin^s, 
Si^ns  Lilitn,  like  tKy  whisperings. 
On,  w^nere  can  sorrow^  Kide  its  face, 
WKen  LilitK,  LilitK,  fills  all  space?" 
(And  Adam  in  the  darkness  spake  no  word.) 


THE  GRADUATES 


I  saw^  tnem  beautiful,  in  fair  array  upon  Commence- 
ment Day ; 
Lissome  and  lovely,  radiant  and   sweet 
As  cultured  roses,  brought  to  tbeir  estate 
By  careful  training.      Finisbed  and  complete 
(As  teacbers  calculate.) 


Tbey  passed  m  maiden  grace  along  tbe  aisle. 
Leaving  tbe  cbaste  w^bite  sunligbt  of  a  smile 
Upon  tbe  gazing  tbrong. 

Musing  I  tbougbt  upon  tbeir  place  as  motbers  of  tb< 
race. 


Ob  tbere  are  many  actors  wbo  can  play 

Greatly,  great  parts ;  but  rare  indeed  tbe  soul 

Wbo  can  be  great  w^ben  cast  for  some  small  role ; 

Yet  tbat  is  w^bat  tbe  w^orld  most  needs ;  big  hearts 

That  w^ill  shine  forth  and  glorify  poor  parts 

In  this  strange  drama.  Life !    Do  tbey. 

Who  in  full  dress-rehearsal  pass  today 

Before  admiring  eyes,  hold  in  their  store 

Those  fine  high  principles  w^hich  keep  old  Earth 

From  being  only  earth ;  and  make  men  more 

Than  just  mere  men?      How  w^iU  tbey  prove  their  w^orth 

Of  years  of  study?      Will  they  walk  abroad 

Decked  w^itb  tbe  plumage  of  dead  bards  of  God, 

The  glorious  birds?      And  shall  tbe  lamb  unborn 


Be  si 


e  slain  on  altars 


of  tb 


eir  vanity] 


To  some  frail  sister  w^ho  has  missed  tbe  w^ay 

Will   they   give  Christ  s  compassion,   or  man's   scorn? 

And  w^ill  clean  manhood  linked  w^itb  honest  love. 

The  victor  prove. 

When   riches,   gained    by   greed   dispute   tbe    claim? 

Will  they  guard  w^ell  a  husband  s  home  and  name. 

Or  lean  down  from  their  altitudes  to  bear 

Tbe  voice  of  flattery  speak  in  the  ear 

Those  lying  platitudes  which  men  repeat 

To  listening  Self-Conceit? 

Musing  I  thought  upon  their  place  as  motbers  of  tbe 

race. 
As  beautiful  they  passed  in  maiden  grace. 


Ill 


R  E- 


112 


LIES 


mmJ^^m4^ 


^^^g^^=g^^4jy:^L5iy^"j^^ 


FOU  have  lived  long  and  learned  the  secret  of  life,  O  Seer  I 
Tell  me  what  are  the  best  three  things  to  see^ 
The  best  three  things  for  a  man  to  see^  on  earth? 

TKe  test  tKree  things  for  a  man  to  seek,  O  Son!  are  tliese 
Reverence  for  tKat  great  source  from  whence  he  came  ; 
Work  for  tKe  world  wKerein  Ke  finds  Kimself, 
And  knowledge  of  tlie  realm  toward  wKicK  Ke  goes. 

^hat  are  the  best  three  things  to  lotie  on  earth,  O  Seer!  — 
What  are  the  best  three  things  for  a  man  to  love? 

The  best  three  tKmgs  for  a  man  io  love,  O  Son !  are  tKese  : 
Labor  wKicK  keeps  kis  forces  all  in  action; 
A  home  wKerem  no  evil  thing  may  enter. 
And  a  loving  woman  with  God  in  her  heart. 

IVhat  are  the  three  great  sins  to  shun,  O  Seer! — 
IVhat  are  the  three  great  sins  for  a  man  to  shun? 

The  three  great  sins  for  a  man  to  shun,  O  Son !  are  these  : 
A  thought  which  soils  the  heart  from  whence  it  goes; 
An  action  which  can  harm  a  living  thing. 
And  undeveloped  energies  of  mind. 

IVhat  are  the  worst  three  things  to  fear,  O  Seer!— 
What  are  the  worst  three  things  for  a  man  to  fear? 

The  worst  three  things  for  a  man  to  fear,  O  Son!  are  these: 
Uoubt  and  suspicion  in  a  young  child's  eyes; 
Accusing  shame  upon  a  woman's  face. 
And  m  himself  no  consciousness  of  God. 


p^".-:^ 


MY  FLOWER  ROOM 


MY   FloAver  Room  is  such  a  little  place ; 
Scarce  tw^enty  feet  by  nine  ;  yet  in  tnat  space 
I  nave  met  Goa,  yea,  many  a  radiant  nour 
Have  talked  with  Him,  the  All-EmDracing- 
Cause, 
About  his  laAvs. 

And  He  has  shoAvn  me  in  each  vine  and  flower 
Such  miracles  of  pow^er 

That  day  ty  day  this  Flow^er  Room  of  mine 
Has  come  to  be  a  shrine. 

Fed  by  the  self-same  soil  and  atmosphere 

Pale,  tender  shoots  appear 

Rising  to  greet  the  light  in  that  sw^eet  room. 

One   speeds  to   crimson   bloom. 

One  slowly  creeps  to  unassuming  grace ; 

One   climbs,   one  trails ; 

One  drinks  the  light  and  moisture. 

One  exhales. 

Up  through  the  earth  together,  stem  by  stem 

Tw^o  plants  push  swiftly  m  a  floral  race. 

Till  one  sends  forth  a  blossom  like  a  gem. 

And  one  gives  only  fragrance. 

In  a  seed 

So  small  it  scarce  is  felt  w^ithin  the  hand. 

Lie  hidden  such  delights 

Of  scents  and  sights. 

When    by    the    elements    of   Nature    freed. 

As  Paradise  must  have  at  its  command. 

From    shapeless   roots   and   ugly   bulbous   things 

What  gorgeous  beauty  springs  ! 

Such  innnite  variety  appears 

A  hundred  artists  in  a  hundred  years 

Could  never  copy  from  the  floral  w^orld 

The  marvels  that  in  leaf  and  bud  lie  curled. 

Nor  could  the  most  colossal  mind  of  man 

Create  one  little  seed  oi  plant  or  vine 

Without  assistance  from  the  First  Great  Plan ; 

Without  the  aid  divine. 

Who  but  a  God 

Could  draw  from  light  and  moisture,  heat  and  cold. 

And  fashion  in  earth  s  mold 

A  multitude  of  blooms  to  deck  one  sod? 

Who  but  a  God! 

Not  one  man  kno^vs 

Just  why  the  bloom  and  fragrance  of  the  rose. 

Or  how  its  tints  w^ere  blent; 

Or  w^hy  the  'white  Camelia  w^ithout  scent 

Up  through  the  same  sou  grows ; 


114 


Or  how  tne  daisy  and  tKe  violet 

Ana  olaaes  of  grass  nrst  on  w^ild  meadows  met; 

Not  one,  not  one  man  know^s. 

TKe   wisest   tut   SUPPOSE. 

Tnis  Flow^er  Room  or  mine 

rias  come  to  be  a  snrine ; 

And  I  go  hence 

Each  day  with  larger  faith  and  reverence. 


WAR  SONNETS 


War  IS  destruction,  w^asteiul,  brutal,  yet 

The  energies  of  men  are  brought  to  play. 

And  hidden  valor  by  occasion  met 

Leaps  to  the  light,  as  precious  jew^els  may 

When  earthquakes  rend  the  rock.  The  stress  and  strain 

Of  w^ar  stir  men  to  do  their  w^orst  and  best. 

Heroes  are  forged  on  anvils  hot  with  pain 

And  splendid  courage  comes  but  w^ith  the  test. 

Some  natures  ripen  and  some  virtues  bloom 

Only  in  blood-red   soil ;  some   souls  prove  great 

Only  in  moments  dark  w^ith  death  or  doom. 

This  is  the  sad  historic  jest  >vhich  fate 

Flings  to  the  w^orld,  recurring  time  on  time. 

Many  must  fall  that  one  may  seem  sublime. 

II 

Above  the  chaos  oi  impending  ills. 
Through  all  the  clamor  of  insistent  strife, 
Now^  w^hile  the  noise  of  w^arring  nations  fills 
Each  throbbing  hour  >vith  menaces  to  life, 
I  hear  the  Voice  of  Progress !  Strange  indeed 
The  shadow^ed  pathw^ays  that  lead  up  to  light. 
But  as  a  runner  sometimes  w^iU  recede 
That  he  may  so  accumulate  his  might. 
Then  with  a  will  that  needs  must  be  obeyed 
Rushes  resistless  to  the  goal  w^ith  ease. 
So  the  w^hole  w^orld  seems  now  to  retrograde. 
Slips  back  to  Avar,  that  it  may  speed  to  peace. 
And  m  that  backw^ard  step  it  gathers  force 
For  the  triumphant  finish  of  its  course. 


P" 


115 


e 


FROM  tKe  Queen  Bee  motKer,  tKe  motKer  Beast,  and 
tke  motker  Fowl  in  the  fen, 

A  call  went  up  to  tke  human  world,  to  Woman,  the 
mother   oi    men. 
The  call  said.  "Come  ;  iot  we,  the  dumb,  are  given  speech 

for  a  day. 
And  the  things  we  have  thought  for  a  thousand  years  we 
are  going,  at  last,  to  say. 

Much    they    marveled,    these    women    of   earth,    at    the 

strange  and  curious  call. 
And  some  of  them  laughed  and  some  of  them  sneered. 

but  they  answered  it  one  and  all. 
For  they  wanted  .to  hear  what  never  before  was  heard 

since  the  world  began 

The  spoken  word  of  Beast  and  Bird,   and   the   message 

it  held  for  Man. 

"A   plea  for   shelter."   the  women  said,  "or  food  in  the 

wintry  w^eathers. 
Or  a  foolish  request  that  we  be  dressed  without  their 

furs  or  feathers. 
We  will  do  what  we  can  for  the  poor  dumb  things,,  but 

they  must  be  sensible.'      Then 
The  meeting  was  called,  and  a  she  bear  stood  and  voiced 

the  thought  of  the  fen. 


•«;,«j^ 


'k: 


\ 


V 


I'W^ 


,-M 


^ 


-Xy 


Now  this  IS  tne  message  Ave  give  to  you"  (it  was  thus 

the  she  bear  spake) 
"You.  the  creatures  of  homes  and   shrines,   and  we  of 

the  wold  and  hrake. 
We   have   no   churches;   we    have   no   schools,    and    our 

minds  you  question  and  doubt. 
But  we  follow  the  laws  which  some  Great  Cause,  alike 

for  us  all,  laid  out. 

"We  eat  and  we  drink  to  live;   we  shun  the  things  that 

poison  and  kill; 
And  we  settle  the  problems  of  sex  and  birth  by  the  law 

of  the  female  will. 
For  never  was  one  of  us  known  by  A  male,  or  made  to 

mother  its  kind. 
Unless  there  went  from  our  minds  consent  (or  from  what 

we  call  the  mind). 

But  you,  the  highest  of  all  she  things,  you  gorge  your- 
selves at  your  feasts. 

And  you  smoke  and  drink  in  a  way  we  think  would  lower 
the  standard  of  beasts,- 

For  a  ring  and  a  roof  and  a  rag  you  are  bought  by  your 
males,  to  have  and  to  hold; 

And  you  mate  and  you  breed  without  nature's  need,, 
while  your  hearts  and  your  bodies  are  cold. 

All  unwanted  your  offspring  come,  or  you  slay  them 
before  they  are  born. 

And   now  we   wild   she  things  of  the  earth  have  spoken 

and  told  our  scorn. 
We  have  no  minds  and  we  have  no  souls,  maybe  as  you 

think — and  still. 
Never  one   of  us   ate   or  drank  the   things  that  poison 

and  kill. 
And   never  was  one   of  us   known  by  a  male  except  by 

our  wish  and  will." 


■..>w. 


117 


WE  TWO 


^^ 


WE  two  make  home  of  any  place  we  go ; 
We  tw^o  nna  joy  in  any  kind  of  >veatner; 
Or  if  tKe  eartK  is  clotKed  in  bloom  or  snow^. 
If  Summer  days  mvite  or  bleak  w^mds  blow^. 
What  matters  it  if  we  two  are  together? 
We  two,  we  two,  w^e  make  our  world,  our  w^eather. 

We  two  make  banquets  of  the  plainest  fare ; 

In  every  cup  w^e  fina  the  thrill  of  pleasure ; 
We  hide  w^ith  w^reaths  the  furrowed  brow^  of  care 
And  w^in  to  smiles  the  set  lips  of  despair. 

For  us   life   always   moves   w^ith   lilting   measure ; 

We  tw^o,  we  tw^o,  we  make  our  world,  our  pleasure. 

We  tw^o  find  youth  renewed  with  every  daw^n ; 

Each  day  holds  something  of  an  unknow^n  glory. 
We  w^aste  no  thought  on  grief  or  pleasure  gone  ; 
Tricked  out  like  Hope,  Time  leads  us  on  and  on. 

And    thrums    upon    his    harp    new^   song   or   story. 

We  two    w^e  tw^o,  w^e  find  the  paths  of  glory. 

We  tw^o  make  heaven  here  on  this  little  earth ; 

We  do  not  need  to  w^ait  for  realms  eternal. 
We  know^  the  use  of  tears,  know^  sorrow^  s  w^orth. 
And  pain  for  us  is  always  love  s  rebirth. 

Our   paths   lead   closely    by   the    paths   supernal ; 

We  tw^o,  w^e  two,  w^e  live  in  love  eternal. 


ON  AVON'S  BREAST  I  SAW 
A  STATELY  SWAN 

One  day  w^hen  England  s  June  w^as  at  its  best, 

I  saw^  a  stately  and  imperious  swan 
Floating  on  Avon  s  fair  untroubled   breast. 

Sudden,  it  seemed  as  if  all  strife  had  gone 
Out  of  the  world ;  all  discord,  all  unrest. 

The   sorrow^s  and  the   sinnings  of  the  race 

Faded   aw^ay  like   nightmares  in  the  dawn. 

All    heaven    w^as    one    blue    background    for    the    grace 
Of  Avon  s  beautiful,  slow^-moving  sw^an ; 

And  earth  held  nothing  mean  or  commonplace. 

Life  seemed  no  longer  to  be  hurrying  on 
With   unbecoming   haste ;   but   softly   trod. 

As  one  vi'ho  reads  in  emerald  leaf,  or  lawn. 

Or  crimson  rose  a  message  straight  from  God. 

On  Avon  s  breast  I  saw  a  stately  swan. 


118 


THE  TECHNIQUE  OF 
IMMORTALITY 

THERE  hangs  a  picture  on  my  wall; 
Three  leafless  trees ;    dead  woods  beyond ; 
Brown  grasses  and  a  marshy  pond  ; 
And  over  all 
An  amber  sunset  oi  late  fall. 

Too  frail  the  artist  heart  to  cope 

With  all  the  stern  demands  of  fame. 

He  passed  before  he  w^on  a  name. 

Or  gained  his  hope. 

To  realms  w^here  dreams  have  larger  scope. 

Yet  in  the  modest  little  square 

Of  canvas,  that  I  daily  see. 

He  left  a  legacy  to  me 

Of  something  rare  ; 

Far  more  than  what  is  painted  there. 

For  tree  and  grass  and  sunset  sky 
Hold  subtler  qualities  than  art. 
It  IS  the  painter  s  pulsing  heart 
That  seems  to  cry, 
I  loved   these   things — they'  cannot   die." 

And  so  they  live  ;  to  stir  and  move 
Each   gazer  s  soul ;   because   they  speak 
Of  something  mightier  than  technique. 
They  live  to  prove 
The  immortality  of  love. 

They  speak  this  message  day  by  day ; 

Love,  love  your  work,  or  small  or  great ; 
Love,  love,  and  leave  the  rest  to  fate. 
For  love  will  stay 
When  all  things  else  have  passed  aw^ay." 


THE  BIRTH  OF  THE  ORCHID 

Wrapped  in  her  robe  of  amethyst 

Rose  the  young  Da\vn. 

Pallid   w^ith   passion   came   the   Mist, 

And  follow^ed  on 

Fleet  as  a  fawn. 

Dow^n  by  the  sea  they  clasped  and  kissed  ; 

Sw^ooned  the  young  Dawn. 

Out  of  that  kiss  of  dew  and  flame 
The  orchid  came. 


119 


THE  SPINSTER 


I 

HERE  are  the  orcnard  trees  all  large  witK  fruit ; 
And  yonder  fields  are  golden  witK  young  grain. 
In  little  journeys,  brancnward  irom  tKe  nest, 
A  motKer  bird,  w^itli  sAveet,  insistent  cries. 
Urges  Ker  young  to  use  their  untried  Avings. 
A   purring  Tabby,   stretched  upon  the  SAvard, 
Sliuts  and  expands  her  velvet  paws  in  joy, 
Wbile  sturdy  kittens  nuzzle  at  her  breast. 

0  migbty  Maker  of  tKe  Universe, 

Am  I  not  part  and  parcel  of  TKy  World? 
And  one  with   Nature?      Wherefore,   then,   in  me 
Must  this  great  reproductive  impulse  lie 
Hidden,   ashamed,  unnourished,   and  denied. 
Until  it  starves  to  slow^  and   tortuous  death? 

1  knew  the  hope  of  springtime ;  like  the  tree 
Now^  ripe  w^ith  fruit,  I  budded,  and  then  bloomed; 
We  laughed  together  through  the  young  May  morns ; 
We  dreamed  together  through  the  summer  moons ; 
Till  all  Thy  purposes  within  the  tree 

Were  to  fruition    brought.      Lord,  Thou   hast   heard 

The  Woman  in  me  crying  for  the  Man ; 

The  Mother  in  me  crying  for  the  Child ; 

And  made  no  answer.      Am  I  less  to  Thee 

Than  lower  forms  of  Nature,  or  in  truth 

Dost  Thou  hold  somew^here  in  another  Realm 

Full  compensation   and   large  recompense 

For  lonely  virtue  forced  by  fate  to  live 

A  life  unnatural,  in  a  natural  world? 

II 
Thou  who  hast  made  for  such  sure  purposes 
The  mightiest  and  the  meanest  thing  that  is — 
Planned  out  the  lives  of  insects  of  the  air 
With  fine  precision  and  consummate  care ; 
Thou  who  hast  taught  the  bee  the  secret  power 
Of  carrying  on  love's   law^s     tw^ixt  flo>ver  and   flow^er ; 
Why  didst  Thou  shape  this  mortal  frame  of  mine. 
If  Heavenly  joys  alone  were  Thy  design? 
Wherefore  the  wonder  of  my  woman  s  breast. 
By  lips  of  lover  and  of  babe  unpressed. 
If  spirit  children  only  shall  reply 
Unto  my  ever  urgent  mother  cry? 
Why  should  the  rose  be  guided  to  its  own. 
And  my  love-craving  heart  beat  on   alone? 

Ill 
Yet  do  I  understand  ;  for  Thou  hast  made 
Something  more  subtle  than  this  heart  of  me; 
A  finer  part  of  me 
To  be  obeyed. 


120 


Albeit  I  am  a  sister  to  tne  earth, 

Tnis  nature  self  is  not  tne  w^nole  of  me  ; 

Tne  deathless  soul  of  me 

Has  nobler  birtn. 

The  primal  ^voman  nungers  for  tne  man ; 
My   better   self  demands  the   mate  of  me; 
Tne   spirit  fate   of  me. 
Part  of  Tby  plan. 


Nature  is  instinct  Avith  tne  motner-need ; 
So  IS  my  neart ;  but  an,  the  cnild  of  me 
Snould,  undefilea  of  me. 
Spring  from  love  s  seed. 

Ana  if,  in  barren  cnastity,  I  must 

Know  but  in  areams  that  perfect  choice  of  me. 

Still  will  tbe  voice  of  me 

Proclaim  God  just. 


STAIRWAYS  AND  GARDENS 

Gardens  and  Stairways ;  tKose  are  w^ords  tbat  tKrill  me 
AWays  w^itn  vague  suggestions  of  deligbt. 
Stairw^ays   and   Gardens.      Mystery   and    grace 
Seem  part  of  their  environment ;  tney  fill  me 
With  memories  of  tnings  veiled  from  my  sigKt 
In  some  far  place. 

Gardens.      The    w^ord    is   overcharged    w^ith    meaning; 
It  speaks  of  moonlignt  and  a  closing  door; 
Of  birds   at  daw^n — of  sultry  afternoons. 
Gardens.      I  seem  to  see  low^  brandies  screening 
A  vine-roofed   arbor  w^itn   a  leaf-tiled  floor 
Where  sunlight  swoons. 


St 


Th< 


airw^ays.       1  ne  w^ord   w^inds  upward  to   a  landing. 
Then  curves  and  vanishes  in  space  above. 
Ligbts  fall,  ligKts  rise ;  soft  ligbts  tbat  meet  and  blend. 
Stairw^ays ;  and  some  one  at  tbe  bottom  standing 
Expectantly  w^itn  lifted  looks  of  love. 
Tnen  steps  descend. 


Gardens  and  Stairways.      TKey  belong  w^itb  song — 
Witn  subtle  scents  of  perfume,  myrrk  and  musk — 
With  dawn  and  dusk — with  youth,  romance,  and  mys- 
tery. 
And  times  that  were  and  times  that  are  to  be. 
StairAvays  and  gardens. 


121 


THE 


ASPHEMY 


HERE  must  be  lonely  moments  wKen  God  feels 

—  TKe  need  of  prayer ■ 

I  Such  lonely  moments,  knowing  not  any  where. 

"^  In  any  spot  or  place. 

In  all  the  far  recesses  of  vast  space. 
Dwells  anyone  to  whom  His  prayers  may  riae* 
And  then,  methinks — so  urgent  is  His  need — 

God  bids  His  prayers  descend. 
He  that  has  ears  to  hear,  let  him  take  heed. 
For  much  God  s  prayers  portend. 


122 


^GUNS 


God  flings  His  solar  system  fortK  to  he 

FinisKed  by  beings  wbo  befit  eacK  sphere. 
Not  ours  to  pry  tbe  secrets  out  of  Mars; 

Our  ^vork  lies  nere. 
To  star-folU,  leave  the  stars. 


There  must  be  many  worlds  that  give  God  care; 

Young  \^orlds  that  glow  and  burn. 
Old  \vorlds  that  freeze  and  fade. 
rr^*^W "tf^-^rH CA  ^^'^  world  is  man's  concern. 

^^^^I^^^P]        Methinks  God  must  be  very  much  dismayed. 
Seeing  the  use  we  make  of  earth  to-dj 
While  loud  we  pray. 


lay. 


Last  nighl,  in  sleep,  beyond  the  earth's  small  zone, 

yidventurouslv  my  spirit  went  alone, 

Past  lesser  hells  and  heavens,  where  souls  may  pause 

To  learn  the  meaning  of  death's  larger  laws, 

Past  astral  shapes  and  bodies  of  desire, 

Past  angels  and  archangels,  high  and  higher, 

Until  the  pinnacles  of  space  it  trod. 

Then,  awestruck,,  paused,  hearing  the  voice  of  God. 

Mortals  of  earth,  for  whom  I  shaped  a  sphere 
(So  spake  the  Voice),     there  rises  to  mine  ear 
Eternal  praises  and  eternal  pleas. 
Now,  after  centuries,  I  tire  of  these. 
Have  ye  no  knowledge  of  the  Maker  s  needs. 
Ye  who  ask  favors  and  who  praise  by  creeds^ 
Why  has  it  not  sufficed 

That  unto  this  small  earth  I  sent  great  Christ- 
Divine  expression  of  the  mortal  man 
To  aid  my  plan? 

Why  ask  for  more  when  all  has  been  refused? 
Why  praise  my  name  who  hourly  am  abused^ 
Why  seek  for  Me  or  heaven,  when  in  you  dwells 
Hate's  lurid  hells? 

Persistent  praises  and  persuasive  pleas — - 
I  tire,  I  tire  of  these 

But  I,  the  Maker  of  a  billion  suns,  ^^ 

Ask  men  to  stop  the  blasphemy  of  guns. 
This  is  God's  prayer. 

{There  must  be  many  worlds  that  give  God  care) 


[23 


THE  FAITH  WE  NEED 


TOO  tall  our  structures    and  too  SAvift  our  pace  ; 
Not  SO  \ve  mount,  not  so  we  ^ain  tKe  race. 
Too  loud  the  voice  of  commerce  in  tne  land  ; 
Not  so  truth  speaks,  not  so  we  understand. 
Too  vast  our  conquests,  and  too  large  our  gains ; 
Not  so  comes  peace,  not  so  the  soul  attains. 

But  the  need  of  the  w^orld  is  a  faith  that  will  live  any- 
where ; 

In  the  still,  dark  depths  of  the  ^voods,or  out  in  the  sun  s 
full  glare. 

A  faith  that  can  hear  God  s  voice,  alike  in  the  quiet 
glen. 

Or  in  the  roar  of  the  street,  and  over  the  noises  of  men. 


And  the  need  of  the  w^orld  is  a  creed  that  is  founded  on 

joy; 
A  creed  >vith  turrets  of  hope  and  trust,  no  ^vlnds  can 

destroy ; 
A  creed  w^here  the   soul  finds  rest,   w^hatever  this  life 

bestow^s. 
And  dw^ells  undoubting  and  unafraid,  because  it  knows, 

it  kno^vs. 


And  the   need   of  the   world   is  love   that    burns   in   the 

heart  like  flame ; 
A  love  for  the  Giver  of  life,  in  sorrow^  or  joy  the  same  ; 
A  love  that  blazes  a  trail  to  God    through  the  dark  and 

the  cold. 
Or  keeps  the  pathw^ay  that  leads  to  Him  clean,  through 

glory  and  gold. 


For  the  laith  that  can  only  thrive  or  grow^  in  the  solitude. 
And  droops  and  dies  m  the  marts  of  men,  w^here  sights 

and  sounds  are  rude  ; 
That  is  not  a  faith   at  all,   but   a  dream   of  a   mystic  s 

heart. 
Our  faith  should  point  as  the  compass  points,  >vhatever 

be  the  chart. 


Our  faith   must  find   its  centre  of  peace   in   a   babel  of 

noise  ; 
In  the  changing  w^ays  of  the  ■world  of  men  it  must  keep 

its  poise ; 
And   over  the   sorrowing   sounds   of   earth  it  must  hear 

God  s  call ; 
And  the  faith  that  cannot  do  all  this,  that  is  not  faith 

at  all. 


124 


REINCARNATION 


HE  slept  as  weary  toilers  do, 
Sne  gazed  up  at  the  moon. 
He  stirred  and  said,  "Wife,  come  to  ted"; 
Sne  answered,   "Soon,  full  soon." 
(OK!  that  strange  mystery  of  tKe  dead  moon's  face.) 


Her  cKeek  was  wan,  Ker  wistful  mouth 

Was  lifted  like   a  cup: 

The  moonful  night  dripped  liquid  light: 

She  seemed  to  quaff  it  up. 

(Oh !  that  unhuried  corpse  that  lies  in  space.) 

Her  life  had  held  but  drudgery — 

She  spelled  her  Bihle  through  ; 

Of  books  and  lore  she   knew  no  more 

Than    little    children    do. 

(Oh !  the  weird  wonder  of  that  pallid  sphere.) 

Her  youth  had  been  a  loveless  waste. 

Starred  by  no  holiday. 

And  she  had  wed  for  roof,  and  bread  ; 

She  gave  her  work  in  pay. 

(Oh  !  the  moon-memories,  vague  and  strange  and  dear.) 

She  drank  the  night's  insidious  wine. 

And   saw^  another  scene ; 

A   stately   room — rare   flowers   in    bloom. 

Herself  in   silken   sheen. 

(Oh !  vast  the  chambers  of  the  moon,  and  wide.) 

A  step  drew  near,  a  curtain  stirred  ; 

She   shook   with    great   alarms. 

Oh  !  splendid  face  ;  oh  !  manly  grace  ; 

Oh  !  strong  impassioned   arms. 

(Oh !  silent  moon,  what  secrets  do  you  hide !) 

The  warm  red  lips  of  thirsting  love 

On    cheek   and    brow   were    pressed ; 

As    the    bees    know   where    honeys    grow. 

They    sought    her    mouth,    her    breast. 

(Oh  !  the  dead  moon  holds  many  a  dead  delight.) 

The  sleeper  stirred  and  gruffly  spake. 


^ 


ave  yo 


u   b< 


.7" 


Come,  w^ife,  where  h 
She  whispered   low,   "Dear  God,   I   go — 
But    'tis    the    seventh    sin." 
(Oh,  the  sad  secrets  of  that  orb  of  white.) 


125 


A  RAINY  NIGHT 


WHEN  tKe  nngers  of  rain  on  tne  window  pane 
Tap,  tap,  tap. 
And  tKe  feet  of  tKe  rain  run  over  the  roof 
In  the  dark  of  a  summer  nignt, 
TKen  out  of  tKeir  graves  old  memories  creep 
And  they  steal  up  into  tKe  nouse  of  sleep 
And  tKey  rap,  rap,  rap 

On  the  door  of  the  heart  till  it  sets  a  lignt 
And  opens  the  portal  and  spreads  tne   ooard 
For   the    w^aitmg   horde. 

Then  the  great  wide  world  seems  all  astir 

With  the  ghostly  shapes  of  the  things  that  were. 

A   Pleasure   that  perished,   a   dead   Despair, 

An  old  Delight  and  a  vanished  Care, 

A  Passion  that   builded  its  funeral  pyre. 

From  the  worthless  timber  of  brief  desire, 

A  Hope  that  w^andered  and  lost  its  w^ay 

In  the  dazzling  beams  of  its  own  bright  ray. 

With  long  gone  Worries  and  long  lost  Joys 

Come  stealthily  creeping  with  never  a  noise 

(For  the   things  that  have   gone   on  the   road    to  God, 

When    they    turn    back    earthward    are    silence-shod)  ; 

And  they  enter  the  heart  s  great  living  room 

When  the  ram  beats  dow^n  from  a  sky  of  gloom 

In  the  dark  of  a  summer  night. 

And  they  tell  old  tales  and  they  sing  old  songs 

That  are  sw^eet,  sw^eet,  sw^eet ; 

While  the  fingers  oi  rain  on  the  w^indow^  pane 

Beat,  beat,  beat. 

And  they  feast  on  the  past  and  drink  its  w^ine 

And  call  it  a  brew^  divme. 


But  when  m  the  east  the  darkness  pales 
And  the  edge  of  the  clouds  show^  light. 
The  ghosts  go  back  w^ith  a  silent  tread 
And  only  the  heart  knows  what  they  said 
In  the  dark  of  the  summer  night. 


REWARD 

Fate  used  me  meanly;  but  I  looked  at  her  and  laughed. 
That  none  might  know^  hoAv  bitter  w^as  the  cup  I  quaffed. 
Along  came  Joy,  and  paused  beside  me  w^here  I  sat. 
Saying,      I  came  to  see  what  you  were  laughing  at." 


126 


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